Missionary  / 
Great  West 


Cyru^Town^end  Brady 


RECOLLECTIONS 
OF  A  MISSIONARY   I 
THE  GREAT  WEST 


For  Love  of  Country.      Sixth  Edition. 
izmo,  $1.25. 

For  the  Freedom  of  the  Sea.      Illustrated. 
JOth  Thousand.      I2mo,  $1.50. 

The  Grip  of  Honor.     Second  Edition.     Il- 
lustrated.     1 2 mo,  $1.50. 

"  In  his  titles  Archdeacon  Brady  gives  his  books  a 
great  deal  to  live  up  to.  '  For  Love  of  Country,' 
'  For  the  Freedom  of  the  Sea,'  'The  Grip  of  Honor  ' 
—  how  the  words  make  the  cheeks  glow  and  the 
pulse  leap  !  That  the  strong  and  stirring  stories  do 
live  up  to  their  titles  is  sufficient  praise.  An  ardent 
patriotism,  according  generous  recognition  to  the  pa- 
triotism of  the  enemy,  the  rush  of  the  salt  sea  breeze, 
the  clash  of  arms,  and,  best  of  all,  men  and  women 
that  ring  true  to  the  call  of  duty  are  in  them  all."  — 
New  York  Times'  Saturday  Re-view. 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS, 

PUBLISHERS,  New  York. 


RECOLLECTIONS 
OF  A  MISSIONARY 
THE  GREAT  WEST 


By 
The  Rev.  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady    \  %  c>  i-  > 

Author  of  "For  Love  of  Country,11  "For  the  Freedom  of  the  tiea," 
"The  Grip  of  Honor,11  "Stephen  Decatur,"  etc. 


Charles   Scribner's    Sons 
New  York     .     .    . 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
CHARLES  SCKIBNEB'S  SONS 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS. 


4402$' 
teamfe  Ubwy 


TO  THE  MEMORY 

OF 
ELISHA  SMITH  THOMAS,  S.T.D.,  LL.D0 

BISHOP  OP  KANSAS 

AND 
CHARLES  HENRY  GARDNER,  M.A. 

DEAN  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL, 
OMAHA,   NEBRASKA. 


PEEFATORY  NOTE 

My  purpose  in  writing  these  recollections  is  set 
forth  with  sufficient  clearness  in  the  pages  that  fol- 
low. With  a  few  exceptions,  easily  identified  by 
the  form  in  which  they  appear,  the  experiences  are 
personal  and  actually  occurred  as  they  are  set  down, 
to  the  best  of  my  recollection.  I  kept  no  notes  and, 
save  for  references  and  allusions  in  occasional  let- 
ters, I  have  had  to  depend  entirely  upon  my  mem- 
ory. Only  one  story  was  "  made  up  "  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  that  combines  several  actual  incidents. 

I  hope  that  this  book  may  serve  to  interest  those 
who  read  it  in  the  life  of  the  average  missionary  on 
the  Western  frontier — a  life  of  mingled  work  and 
pleasure,  joy  and  pathos,  hardship  and  fun. 

CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 

PHILADELPHIA,  June,  1900. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I 1 

How  it  began — As  of  William  the  Silent — Nothing  but 
funerals  — I  was  the  whole  staff— A  short-handed 
bishop  —  Belshazzar  —  A  striking  color-scheme  —  A 
disconcerting  eye— The  Johnstown  flood— The  blind 
woman  — "I  can  see!"  — Out  of  the  heart— The  fif- 
teen-cent baby— Fast  asleep— The  stopped  clock — 
Seek,  and  ye  shall  find  —  Anxious  for  a  souvenir  bullet 
—  A  retort  courteous — Against  the  wall  —  The  little 
maverick 


CHAPTER  II 18 

My  first  baptism — A  motley  crowd — Service  under  dif- 
ficulties—  Sponsors  in  baptism  —  "Churched"  in  the 
wood — An  agonized  mother — God  with  us — A  regen- 
eration indeed — Baptizing  the  dog  —  Belshazzar  again 
—  I  become  a  missionary — Again  the  Assyrian — And 
the  travelling  man  — The  story  of  a  bad  boy  — Mind 
over  matter— "  Notwithstanding  " —Disregarding  the 
weather— A  blizzard  —  Facing  the  storm  — How  I 
breathed  — Lost  in  the  snow  — Proud  of  my  folly 


CHAPTER  III 36 

Mad  at  God  —  Malachi  Yant— A  lack  of  experience  — 
Information  on  the  hog-cholera — Wearing  and  bear- 
ing the  cross  — Daughters  of  the  King— A  frontier  fu- 
neral —  The  rich  and  poor  meet  together— Told  by  the 
broken  shoes— Supporting  a  missionary— A  sick  pig 
—And  how  he  was  cured—  Speeding  the  plough  —Trifles 
for  bread  —  The  farmer's  wife — The  woman  in  the 
sod  house  —  It  all  depends  on  the  rain  —  Burned  up — 
"God's  forgot  us"  — His  only  chance  —  Sheridan's 
opinion— A  novel  horse  trade 


Contents 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  IV 63 

An  abandoned  saloon— Exchanging  courtesies  with 
the  theatre— A  wild  ride  to  a  wedding  — "  Coal-oil 
Johnny"— And  his  broncos— A  clerical  spectacle— 
Spurs — Swimming  the  rivers — A  grand  entree — Tum- 
bleweed  — In  praise  of  broncos— How  they  started 
him  — One  buck  — Making  up  the  amount— A  man 
and  a  hero —What  he  did  not  give  —  Seeing  his  ante  I 
A  raise  and  call— It  never  came  — Hard  luck— The 
heroine  of  a  cyclone— Freaks  of  the  wind— Pluck  and 
persistence— A  poser— Success  in  the  end— The  va- 
garies of  the  tornado  — "  From  lightning  and  tem- 
pest, .  .  .  good  Lord,  deliver  us" 


CHAPTER  V 73 

No  place  for  weaklings— Burglarizing  the  station  — 
Peanuts  for  breakfast— What  was  required  of  us— 
Sleeping  on  the  platform  —  Nearly  four  times  round 
the  world  —  What  is  an  archdeacon? — The  "  boss"  of 
the  bishop— Only  officially  aged  —  "Lub  an'  brains" 
—  "Doan  drap  'em"— The  brakeman's  story— Stan- 
dards of  wickedness— One  touch  of  nature— An  Epis- 
copal cat— Vi  et  armis— An  old  gleaner— The  man 
with  the  versatile  voice  —  A  good  word  for  the  men  — 
Stumbling  over  the  Hebrews 


CHAPTER  VI 91 

"Held  up"  by  Herbert  Spencer— A  sand  blizzard  — 
They  called  it  a  hotel— Ventilation  through  the 
mop-board— Out  of  it  alive  — The  Overland  Limited— 
And  its  master  —  Opening  the  road  —  A  bicycle  story — 
Chased  by  the  "  long-horns  "  —  The  just  judge— En- 
tertained by  "little  Johnny" — On  the  prevalence  of 
chicken— The  charge  of  the  feathered  brigade  — One 
maid  of  all  work  to  a  town  — Poverty's  independence 
—  Two  generous  gifts— No  money  in  the  confirmation 
class— Hoist  by  my  own  petard  — Good  for  the  Sun- 
day-school library— Revenue  from  the  graveyard 


Contents 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  VII 110 

Profanity— A  man,  anyway— An  interrogation-point 
—The  criticism  of  Orsamus— Warned  to  keep  away— 
Time  to  be  introduced— A  Western  entertainment — 
The  "  Hallelujah  Chorus  "  on  the  trombone— A  border 
town— I  feel  peaceable— A  relief  from  faro— Livelier 
on  Sunday— Doubling  the  stakes  for  the  Lord— A 
doorkeeper  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  —  Hustling  times 
—  Too  Western  — "Scrapple"  for  a  thousand  miles — 
Peripatetic  churches  —  Breaking  up  the  ground  — 
Train  robberies  —  The  Dal  ton  raid  —  Dying  game 


CHAPTER  vm 

The  only  kid  gloves  in  the  Territory — The  bride  balks  at 
obeying — Her  religious  privileges — "  The  bride  cares  " 
—  Harden  Episcopalians— Indomitable  women— An 
Irish  bull  — Why  the  Latter-day  Saints  failed— The 
rivals  — Lost  identity  —  Said  them  to  God— Wisdom 
born  of  experience— I  wish  it  were  true  —  The  biggest 
liar  he  ever  saw— Ananias  in  a  new  version 


CHAPTER  IX . 144 

Jaw-breaking  preparation  —  Unconscious  cerebration 
—  The  chinch-bug— A  triumph  of  science  —  Devasta- 
tion — A  rash  offer  —  Quotations  on  the  bugs — A  ten- 
thousand-dollar  joke  —  Following  the  bishop's  order — 
At  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver  —  A  warrior  nurse  —  Gin 
for  the  baby  — A  grim  contrast  —  Died  at  his  post  of 
duty —A  gentleman  indeed  —  Double  duty 


CHAPTER  X .  163 

Christmas-tide  —  Poor  foundations— Why  the  clergy 
are  no  better— Invincible  ignorance— The  location  of 
Harvard  — Better  everything  in  little  towns  — A  safe 
bet— Service  in  furs— A  queer  Christmas  dinner- 
Potato  men— Robbing  the  church  —  Christmas  gifts — 


Contents 


PAGE 

A  Christmas  funeral— Shouting  consolation— A  Me- 
thuselah among  horses  — A  snow-bound  Christmas- 
Disappointment  —  Anticipation  —  "  Now  I  lay  me 
.  "  —  Always  in  order  —  Santa  Glaus  —  And  a 
Christmas  tree  —  Christmas  service  and  dinner,  too — 
"Real  Chris'mus  gif's"  — Frozen  to  death 


CHAPTER  XI 186 

The  greatest  man  I  ever  knew  —  Gambling  for  the 
children  —  Turning  the  tables  —  Revising  their  creed 
—  A  compromise  creed  —  Having  fun  with  the  bishop 
—An  interested  driver  — Eager  listeners  — A  ritualist 
indeed  —  Providing  everything,  even  teeth  — Broken 
down  —  Bishop-killers  —  In  apostolic  footsteps —A  roll 
of  men— Just  the  average 


RECOLLECTIONS 

OF  A  MISSIONARY  IN  THE 

GREAT  WEST 


CHAPTEE  I 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  the  dean  of  an  Episco-  How  it  began 
pal  cathedral  in  a  far  Western  State  asked 
a  young  man,  who  had  been  a  cadet-midship- 
man in  the  United  States  navy  and  was  then 
a  railroad  official,  to  join  a  confirmation  class 
he  was  organizing.  The  dean  and  the  young 
man  boarded  in  the  same  house  at  the  time, — 
the  dean  in  the  parlor,  the  young  man  in  the 
garret,— and  a  great  friendship  had  arisen  be- 
tween them.  The  young  man,  whose  antece- 
dents were  all  Presbyterian,  did  not  wish  to 
be  confirmed.  When  the  dean  pressed  him 
1 


'RecoCtections  of  a 

he  replied  firmly  in  the  negative,  and  when 
the  dean  withdrew  he  dismissed  the  subject 
from  his  thoughts. 

The  very  next  day  he  walked  into  the 
dean's  office  in  the  evening  and  announced 
his  intention  of  joining  the  class.  He  had 
given  the  matter  no  thought  in  the  interim, 
and  knew  not  until  long  after  that  the  dean, 
and  some  good  friends  of  his  who  happened 
to  like  the  young  man,  had  made  his  confirma- 
tion the  subject  of  special  prayer. 

As  of  William       The  dean  is  dead  now,  but  the  young  man 
the  Silent          .,,  „ 

will  never  forget  him.  He  was  a  great- 
hearted, manly,  Christian  man,  able,  devoted, 
hard-working,  and  so  beloved  by  all  who  came 
in  contact  with  him  that  the  papers  said  of 
him  after  he  entered  into  life,  what  Motley 
said  of  William  the  Silent :  "When  he  died 
the  little  children  cried  in  the  streets."  And 
the  words  were  exactly  true. 

In  due  course,  after  his  confirmation,  the 
young  man  was  moved  by  that  which  he  can- 
not explain  to  study  for  the  ministry.  He 
was  very  busily  employed  during  the  day  in 
a  responsible  position  in  the  general  office  of 

2 


"(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

one  of  the  great  railroad  systems  of  the  world, 
and  the  necessity  of  supporting  his  family 
constrained  him  to  continue  his  work.  But 
he  found  time  early  in  the  morning,  during 
the  noon  hours,  going  to  and  from  work,  and 
late  in  the  night,  to  prosecute  his  studies  so 
successfully  that  by  and  by  he  was  ordained 
deacon  and  appointed  assistant  minister  to 
the  overworked  dean  in  the  cathedral. 

The  first  and  only  duty  that  devolved  upon  Nothing  but 
him  for  some  time  was  the  attending  of  funer- 
als.  All  the  unattached  Episcopalians  in  the 
city  who  wanted  to  be  married,  or  buried,  or 
helped,  naturally  came  to  the  cathedral.  The 
winter  was  very  severe,  and  there  were,  I 
think,  thirteen  funerals  in  fifteen  days,  most 
of  which  the  assistant  conducted.  Life  in  the 
ministry  seemed  to  be  made  up  of  nothing 
but  attending  funerals,  and  the  young  man, 
who  had  known  but  little  sorrow  and  grief  at 
that  time,  nearly  broke  down  under  the  strain 
caused  by  the  suffering  he  witnessed  and 
shared,  until  the  dean  came  to  his  rescue  and 
took  the  funerals  himself. 
3 


'RecoCtections  of  a 

I  was  the  whole  The  cathedral  had  a  large  staff  of  honorary 
clergy  on  the  rolls,  who  were  all  busy  with 
their  other  duties  in  the  diocese  and  were 
rarely  there.  The  bishop,  one  of  the  best  and 
sweetest  of  men,  to  whom  this  minister  owes 
more  than  he  can  say,  was  very  fond  of  refer- 
ring to  the  cathedral  clergy.  Inasmuch  as  I 
was  usually  the  only  one  visibly  present,  the 
people,  and  especially  the  other  clergymen, 
dropped  into  the  habit  of  referring  to  me 
alone  as  the  "cathedral  clergy,"  in  such 
phrases  as  this : 

"We  saw  the  cathedral  clergy  this  morning. 
He  was  looking  cheerful  and  happy." 

I  have  never  filled  so  exalted  a  position 
since  then,  nor  do  I  ever  expect  to  be  so  much 
of  anything  as  I  was  when  I  was  the  whole  ca- 
thedral clergy  myself. 

A  short-  The  bishop,  of  course,  like  every  other  West- 
?  °P  ern  bishop,  was  very  hard  pressed  for  men. 
He  always  had  half  a  dozen  places  clamoring 
for  services,  with  no  money  to  pay  for  them 
and  no  men  to  take  them  even  if  there  had 
been  money ;  so  he  got  into  the  habit,  natu- 

4 


in  tfje  Great  West 


rally,  of  asking  the  dean  to  detail  one  of  his 
staff—  I  was  the  whole  staff—  to  go  out  to 
various  places  on  Sunday  to  conduct  services. 
The  dean  did  not  like  it  much,  but  he  com- 
plied like  the  loyal  Churchman  he  was,  and 
one  of  my  first  details  was  to  a  little  strug- 
gling church  for  colored  people.  I  had  writ- 
ten a  few  sermons  for  similar  visitations  and 
for  the  Friday  night  congregations  of  the  ca- 
thedral, but  due  notice  of  this  assignment 
having  been  given  me,  I  determined  to  ex- 
temporize. 

I  did  not  have  any  very  great  confidence  in 
my  ability  to  do  so,  for  the  only  time  I  had 
ever  tried  to  speak  without  notes  had  been  at 
a  "sympathetic  dinner"  which  the  gun-crew 
of  which  I  was  captain  while  at  the  United 
States  Naval  Academy  had  given  me  on  the 
occasion  of  my  being  deprived  of  my  exalted 
cadet  rank  for  some  boyish  prank.  I  had 
commenced,  on  that  occasion,  in  a  style  worthy 
of  Pericles,  and  had  lasted  for  about  three 
sentences,  whereupon  I  sat  down  —  collapsed 
rather  —  amid  friendly  cheers  and  laughter. 

The  dean  was  a  most  fluent  and  easy  ex- 
5 


^ecottections  of  a 

Belshazzar  temporaneous  speaker,  and  he  encouraged  me 
to  attempt  it;  so  I  resolved  to  try  it— un- 
worthy thought !— upon  the  colored  brethren. 
The  subject  I  selected  was  Belshazzar.  I 
find  it  is  a  popular  theme  with  youthful 
speakers— exactly  why  I  do  not  know  ;  possibly 
because  it  is  supposed  to  be  easy.  I  found  it 
extremely  hard.  I  prepared  the  sermon  with 
the  greatest  care,  shutting  myself  up  in  my 
study  for  days  beforehand,  and  preaching  it 
over  and  over  again  to  imaginary  congrega- 
tions, with  great  effect. 

A  striking         At  last  the  hour  of  service  arrived.     The 

color-scheme    ,...,       ,         , 

little  church,  since  grown  into  a  strong,  hard- 
working parish,  was  at  that  time  in  a  very 
dilapidated  condition.  It  had  a  boy  choir 
vested  mostly  in  blue  cassocks,  with  two  aco- 
lytes in  red  ones,  and  one  lone  colored  brother 
and  myself  in  black.  The  altar  and  other 
hangings  belonged  to  different  sets,  and  the 
color-scheme  was  striking,  not  to  say  bizarre. 
It  was  a  ritualistic  church  at  that  time,  and 
they  did  a  great  many  things  to  which  I  was 
not  accustomed  and  which  greatly  disconcerted 
me.  We  managed  to  get  through  the  service, 

6 


In  tge  Great  West 


however,  in  some  fashion,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
I  disconcerted  them  as  much  as  they  did  me 
when  the  time  came  for  the  sermon. 

As  I  stepped  to  the  front  of  the  chancel,  on  A  disconcert- 

\Yl&  £V& 

that  hot  August  night,  to  address  my  perspir- 
ing little  congregation,  who  should  come  into 
the  chapel  but  the  chief  examiner  of  the  dio- 
cese, a  man  whom  personally  we  all  loved,  but 
whom  officially  we  feared  above  all  other 
men  for  the  severity  with  which  he  insisted 
upon  a  literal  compliance  with  the  rigid  re- 
quirements before  he  passed  a  candidate  whom 
he  examined  for  the  priesthood.  He  was  a 
tall,  thin  man,  with  white  hair  and  a  keen 
though  kindly  blue  eye.  He  came  solemnly 
into  the  church,  sat  down  in  a  front  pew, 
folded  his  arms,  and  fixed  his  eye  upon  me. 

I  returned  his  stare  with  agonized  inter- 
est. This  was  not  trying  it  on  the  colored 
brethren  at  all.  There  was  a  long,  dreadful 
pause.  Finally  I  opened  my  mouth  desper- 
ately, and  swallowed  a  gnat  !  I  moved  to  re- 
consider, but  the  motion  was  lost.  There  was 
a  violent  coughing-spell,  in  which  my  care- 
fully prepared  sermon  on  Belshazzar  was  shat- 
7 


'Recollections  of  a 

tered  into  fragments.  When  I  recovered  my 
composure— no,  I  never  did  recover  my  com- 
posure, but  when  I  stopped  coughing,  aban- 
doning the  gnat  to  his  fate,  I  had  no  sermon. 
I  explained  the  fact  to  the  congregation  some- 
thing in  this  fashion : 

The  Johnstown  "Dearly  beloved  brethren,  I  have  forgotten 
flood  .^e  sermon  which  I  prepared,— I  beg  to  assure 
you  that  I  did  prepare  one,— and  instead  of 
that  sermon  I  will  tell  you  my  experiences  in 
the  Johnstown  flood"  ;  which  I  proceeded  to 
do  with  great  outward  unction  but  inward  mis- 
ery. The  " cathedral  clergy"  felt  very  small 
indeed  that  night.  What  the  moral  and  spir- 
itual effect  of  that  discourse  was  I  never 
learned,  but  I  never  heard  the  last  of  that 
effort,  and  I  am  sometimes  reminded  by  my 
brethren,  especially  the  chief  examiner,  of  the 
famous  sermon  I  preached  on  the  Johnstown 
flood !  I  would  walk  around  the  block  to 
avoid  him,  when  I  saw  him  coming,  for  some 
time  after  that. 


The  blind      Among  the  duties  devolved  upon  me  at  the 

al 

$ 


cathedral  was  that  of  daily  visiting  a  hospital 


'(Missionary  in  t/>e  Great  West 

near  by.  In  the  eye  and  ear  department 
there  was  a  little  old  woman,  wife  to  one  of 
those  hard-working,  heroic  Methodists  who 
helped  to  build  up  the  kingdom  of  God  on 
the  distant  frontier.  She  had  been  blind  for 
a  dozen  years.  A  hunting-party,  in  which 
there  was  an  eminent  oculist,  happened  to 
stop  at  the  rude  lodge  where  she  dwelt  with 
her  husband  and  children. 

The  kindly  physician,  who  made  an  exami- 
nation of  her  eyes,  determined  that  a  cure  was 
possible,  and  had  resolved  to  effect  it  himself ; 
hence  the  presence  of  the  old  woman  in  the 
hospital.  I  had  visited  her  many  times  dur- 
ing her  long  stay,  and  we  became  very  well 
acquainted.  This  of  which  I  speak  was  the 
first  visit  I  made  her  after  an  absence  on  a 
long  vacation.  She  was  in  a  little  room  about 
ten  feet  square.  Opposite  this  room,  and  sep- 
arated from  it  by  a  narrow  corridor,  was  an- 
other room,  and  the  doors  of  both  were  open. 

When  I  entered  she  was  seated,  with  her 
eyes  shaded.    She  looked  at  me  —  actually 
looked  at  me— as  I   stood  in  the  door,  and 
when  I  spoke  she  recognized  my  voice. 
9 


•Recollections  of  a 

"I can  see!"  "Oh!"  she  said,  "the  operation  was  per- 
formed some  time  ago,  and  it  is  a  success. 
I  can  see  !  I  can  see  ! "  She  fairly  beamed, 
with  a  chastened,  humble  sort  of  joy,  as  she 
continued :  "I  am  going  back  home  soon.  I 
am  going  to  look  into  the  face  of  that  brave  old 
man,  my  husband,  who  has  stood  by  me  in  my 
days  of  darkness.  I  am  going  to  clasp  in  my 
arms  another,  younger  man  who  was  a  little 
boy  when  I  saw  him  last.  I  am  going  to  press 
to  my  heart  a  young  girl— they  tell  me  she  is 
beautiful— who  was  a  baby  at  my  breast  when 
the  light  went  out.  I  am  so  grateful  to  God 
that  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see,  that  I 
thank  Him  every  day,  every  hour,  every  mo- 
ment, even.  I  am  glad  you  are  come.  We 
will  thank  Him  together,  first  I  and  then  you." 

Out  of  the  heart  And  so  we  knelt  down  in  that  little  room  in 
the  hospital,  in  the  stillness  of  that  sunny 
morning,  that  once  blind  old  woman  and  I. 
The  words  which  came  from  her  lips  were 
rude  and  simple,  but  they  came  from  an  hon- 
est, grateful  heart,  and  they  had  a  power  and 
sweetness  all  their  own.  I  have  heard  and 
read  many  prayers,  but  not  many  like  that 

10 


Missionary  m  tfje  Great  West 

one.  It  was  a  most  humble  young  man  who 
knelt  by  her  side,  and  when  she  had  finished 
her  own  fervent  outpouring  of  gratitude,  he 
joined  his  own  feeble  words  to  her  expressions. 
And  then  there  was  a  little  silence  in  the 
room. 

It  was  broken  by  the  sound  of  a  great,  tear- 
ing sob  like  that  which  comes  from  the  breast 
of  a  strong  man  unused  to  weeping.  We 
looked  up  from  our  knees,  and  there  in  the 
doorway,  with  his  arms  extended  in  that  hope- 
less, helpless  gesture  peculiar  to  the  newly 
blind,  was  a  splendid,  stalwart-looking  man, 
tears  running  down  his  cheeks. 

"Oh,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  quivering  voice, 
"you  've  thanked  God  for  having  given  that 
woman  back  her  sight ;  won't  you  pray  to  Him 
for  me?— for  He  has  forever  taken  mine." 

My  poor  friend  learned  after  a  while  that 
there  is  a  country  where  the  eyes  of  the  blind 
are  opened. 

There  was  a  little  baby  in  the  family  of  the   The  fifteen-cent 
young  deacon  ;  in  fact,  there  has  almost  always 
been  a  little  baby  in  his  family.     I  remember, 
11 


ItecoClections  of  a 

to  anticipate  a  little,  that  on  one  occasion  a 
sagacious  neighbor  of  mine  and  I  were  ex- 
changing felicitations  over  the  recent  arrival 
in  each  of  our  households  of  another  baby— 
not  the  first  one  in  either  case,  by  any  means. 
"I  will  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Brady,"  he 
remarked  sagely,  "I  love  my  children,  I  am 
proud  of  them,  I  would  n't  take  a  million  dol- 
lars for  a  single  one  of  them  ;  but  I  would  n't 
give  fifteen  cents  for  another."  I  entirely 
agreed  with  him.* 

Fast  asleep  Well,  to  return  to  this  particular  baby,  one 
day  when  I  was  writing  a  sermon,  at  which 
time,  of  course,  I  was  very  desirous  of  not 
being  disturbed,  he  came  tiptoeing  into  the 
room,  remarking  in  his  childish  way,  "I  won't 
?sturb  you,  papa,"  and  proceeded  to  clasp  his 
hands  around  my  left  hand  lying  on  the  desk, 
resting  his  little  curly  head  upon  my  arm.  I 
wrote  on  and  on  in  silence.  Presently  the 
hold  on  my  arm  relaxed,  the  little  body 

*  Since  the  above  was  first  published  still  another  baby  has 
arrived  in  my  family.  I  have  refused  many  offers  of  fifteen 
cents  for  him.  He  is  not  in  the  market;  the  price  of  babies 
has  risen! 

12 


(Missionary  in  t/je  Great  West 

slipped  gently  down  to  the  floor,  the  hands 
shifted  themselves  from  my  arm  to  my  foot, 
he  laid  his  head  upon  it  and  went  fast  asleep. 

There  was  a  little  clock  on  my  desk  at  the 
time.  The  room  was  very  still,  and  its  ticking 
was  distinctly  audible  in  the  perfect  quiet. 
As  I  watched  the  little  lad,  the  clock  suddenly 
stopped.  We  know,  whose  duty  it  is  to  wind 
them,  that  clocks  often  stop,  but  I  never  re- 
member to  have  heard  one  stop  before  or 
since.  The  busy  ticking  died  away  and  left 
no  sound  to  break  the  silence.  I  looked  down 
at  the  frail  life  beginning  at  my  feet,  and 
thought  of  the  thousands  and  thousands  of 
lives,  young  and  old,  ticked  out  with  each  re- 
curring minute— of  the  stopped  clocks  a  mo- 
ment since  quick  with  life.  The  lad  lay  very 
still.  In  panic  terror  I  awakened  him. 

The  sermon  I  had  been  writing  was  on  the 
Fifth  Commandment,  a  lesson  to  children.  I 
tore  it  up  then  and  there,  in  the  sight  of  his 
innocence,  and  made  it  a  lesson  to  fathers  in- 
stead, that  they  might  be  worthy  of  the  honor 
commanded  from  the  children,  and  I  call  it 
the  boy's  sermon  to  this  day. 
13 


•Recollections  of  a 

Seek,  and  ye  When  he  could  barely  walk,  I  took  him  to 
the  cathedral  one  afternoon  when  I  went  back 
for  something  I  had  left  after  morning  service. 
I  left  him  down  in  the  nave  by  the  door, 
while  I  walked  up  to  the  chancel.  I  was 
busied  there  for  a  few  moments,  and  when  I 
turned  to  go  out,  he  had  advanced  half-way 
up  the  middle  aisle,  and  was  standing  where 
the  declining  sun,  streaming  through  the  great 
painted  west  window,  threw  a  golden  light 
around  his  curly  head.  And  a  tiny  little  ob- 
ject he  was  in  that  great,  quiet  church.  It 
was  very  still. 

He  was  looking  about  him  in  every  direc- 
tion in  the  most  curious  and  eager  way.  To 
my  fond  fancy  he  seemed  a  little  angel  as  he 
said  in  his  sweet  childish  treble,  which  echoed 
and  reechoed  beneath  the  vaulted  Gothic  roof, 
these  words : 

"Papa,  where  ?s  Jesus?  where  's  Jesus?" 
He  had  been  told  that  the  Church  was  the 
home  of  the  Saviour,  and  in  this  his  first  visit 
he  was  looking  for  him.  Seek,  seek,  my  boy, 
and  ye  shall  find,  please  God,  and  every  other 
boy  and  girl  that  seeketh  likewise. 

14 


in  tfje  Great  West 


That  baby  is  quite  grown  up  now.     There   Anxious  for 

i  i,-     i,      ^      •  ^         -U       a  souvenir 

are  no  curls  on  his  head  ;  in  no  way  does  he       bullet 

resemble—  no,  not  in  the  faintest  particular— 
an  angel.  The  other  day,  when  I  rode  off  to 
the  wars,  he  astonished  me  with  this  request 
(he  was  truculently  patriotic  during  the  excit- 
ing period)  : 

"Father,  if  you  get  wounded,  don't  forget 
to  bring  me  the  bullet  that  knocks  you  out,  as 
a  souvenir  for  my  collection  !  " 

I  promised  faithfully,  but  fortune  was 
kinder  to  me  than  to  him,  and  he  still  lacks 
that  souvenir  for  his  collection. 

Talking  about  children  reminds  me  of  a  A  retort 
u  re  tort  courteous,"  and  adequate  as  well,  of 
a  little  girl  whom  I  baptized,  long  after- 
wards, in  a  small  town  on  the  border  of  the 
Indian  Territory.  Her  father  was  a  cattle- 
man. It  would  be  no  extravagance  to  say 
that  the  "cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills"  were 
his,  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  there  were 
no  hills  on  his  mighty  ranch.  Each  cattle- 
owner  in  that  country  has  a  different  brand 
with  which  his  cattle  are  marked,  and  by 
15 


Recoil ections  of  a 

which  lie  identifies  them  when  the  great 
"round-ups"  occur.  The  "mavericks"— 
young  cattle  born  on  the  range  which  have 
not  been  marked— belong  to  the  first  man 
who  can  get  his  branding-iron  on  them. 

I  could  only  make  that  town  on  a  week- 
day, and  arrangements  had  been  made  for  the 
baptism  in  the  morning.  The  young  miss, 
about  six  years  of  age,  had  just  started  to  the 
public  school,  and  she  had  to  remain  away 
from  one  session  for  the  baptism.  In  our  ser- 
vice we  sign  those  who  are  baptized  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross.  When  she  returned  to 
school,  the  children  pressed  her  with  hard 
questions,  desiring  to  know  what  that  man 
with  the  "nightgown"  on  had  done  to  her, 
and  if  she  was  now  any  different  from  what 
she  was  before. 
Against  the  She  tried  to  tell  them  that  she  had  been 

14JQ.11 

made  "a  member  of  Christ,  the  child  of  God, 
and  an  inheritor  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven," 
but  did  not  very  well  succeed  in  expressing 
the  situation ;  so  they  gathered  about  her  with 
the  unconscious  cruelty  of  children,  and 
pushed  her  over  against  the  theological  wall, 

16 


in  tfje  Great  West 


so  to  speak.  Finally,  when  she  had  exhausted 
every  other  effort,  she  turned  on  them  in  this 
way,  her  eyes  flashing  through  her  tears. 

"Well,"  she  said,  lapsing  into  the  vernacu-  The  little 
lar,  "I  will  tell  you.  I  was  a  little  maverick 
before,  and  the  man  put  Jesus'  brand  on  my 
forehead,  and  when  He  sees  me  running  wild 
on  the  prairie,  He  will  know  that  I  am  His 
little  girl." 

The  answer  was  eminently  satisfactory  to 
the  small  audience.  They  understood  her 
perfectly,  and  the  profoundest  theologian 
could  scarce  have  expressed  it  better. 


17 


CHAPTER  II 

My  first       T  HA  YE  told  you  about  my  first  sermon. 

baptism 

JL  My  first  baptism  was  in  this  wise.  Dur- 
ing the  absence  of  the  dean  on  his  vacation, 
an  undertaker  whose  acquaintance  I  enjoyed 
through  my  numerous  funerals  asked  me  if  I 
would  go  on  Sunday  afternoon  down  to  the 
"Bottoms/'— i.e.,  low  lands  on  the  banks  of  the 
river,  occupied  by  a  few  squatter  huts,  and  the 
resort,  especially  on  Sunday  afternoons,  of 
men  and  women  of  the  baser  sort,— to  conduct 
a  funeral  for  a  dead  gypsy  babe.  The  gypsies 
were  English  and  claimed  to  be  members  of 
the  Established  Church. 

A  motley  I  agreed  to  do  so,  of  course,  and  when  I 
drove  to  the  rude  encampment  of  the  swarthy 
nomads  on  Sunday  afternoon— they  were  not 
poor  and  had  provided  carriages— I  was  aston- 
ished to  find  it  the  centre  of  perhaps  five  hun- 
dred people.  An  enterprising  reporter  had 
made  up  a  story  about  the  little  dead  infant, 

18 


3  (Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

which  had  appeared  in  the  Sunday  morning 
paper,  with  this  result.  It  was  a  very  jocular 
and  lively  crowd  of  men  and  women,  the  lat- 
ter being  from  the  worst  quarters  of  the  city. 
There  was  talking,  laughing,  and  singing. 
Some  negroes  were  playing  on  banjos,  and  al- 
together the  assemblage  was  more  like  a  low- 
class  picnic  than  anything  else.  The  gypsies 
were  gathered  in  their  wagons  and  tents,  sul- 
lenly confronting  the  crowd.  Under  the  trees 
in  front  of  one  tent,  in  a  little  coffin,  lay  the 
dead  baby. 

I  slipped  behind  a  wagon,  not  escaping  ob-  Service  under 
servation  thereby,  and  put  on  my  vestments, 
an  act  which  excited  some  rude  and  jesting 
comment.  I  then  stepped  to  the  side  of  the 
coffin,  faced  the  crowd  nervously,  asked  them 
to  be  silent,  and  began  the  service,  which  I 
continued  to  read  in  spite  of  much  noise  and 
disturbance.  At  the  usual  time  I  made  the 
customary  announcement  that  the  remainder 
of  the  office  would  be  said  at  the  graveside. 

As  I  turned,  one  of  the  women  stopped  me 
with  the  statement  that  they  had  several 
babies  to  be  baptized.  I  urged  that  they  be 
19 


Kecottections  of  a 

brought  to  the  church,  but  they  refused. 
They  were  here  to-day,  and  to-morrow  gone 
they  knew  not  where.  They  explained  it  all 
in  their  dramatic  way  :  if  I  would  baptize  the 
babies  then,  all  right ;  if  not— and  they  closed 
their  sentences  with  characteristic  shrugs  of 
their  shoulders.  I  had  made  no  preparation 
for  baptism,  but  I  decided  on  my  course  at 
once. 

They  brought  me  an  old  chair  without  a 
back,  and  I  placed  upon  it,  bottom  upward,  a 
horse-bucket.  I  borrowed  a  newspaper  from 
one  of  the  now  deeply  interested  crowd,  and 
tucked  it  around  the  bucket  to  cover  its  un- 
sightliness  as  much  as  possible.  On  the  bucket 
was  placed  an  old  tin  pan  filled  with  turbid 
water  from  the  river. 

Sponsors  in  The  parents  were  to  be  sponsors ;  but  as 
apli  none  of  them  could  read  English,  I  asked  if 
some  one  would  not  read  the  responses  for 
them,  and  finally,  after  much  hesitation,  one 
of  the  hackmen  and  a  woman  of  the  town  vol- 
unteered. The  poor  creature  came  forward, 
blushing  painfully  under  her  paint,  and  took 
her  place  beside  the  hackman.  Fortunately 

20 


in  tge  Great  West 


I  had  an  extra  prayer-book  in  my  pocket,  so 
we  began  the  service.  The  negroes  had 
stopped  their  banjo  -playing,  and  the  crowd, 
which  had  swelled  to  about  a  thousand  people 
now,  was  very  quiet  and  very  interested. 

The  first  baby  brought  to  me  was  a  little 
black-haired,  black-eyed,  swarthy  infant, 
about  three  weeks  old.  When  I  asked  the 
name  of  this  child,  the  father  said  "  Major." 
"Major  what?"  I  asked.  "Just  Major,"  he 
replied.  And  so,  with  an  anxious  thought 
toward  the  old  Church  injunction  that  chil- 
dren should  be  named  for  some  scriptural 
character  whose  virtues  they  could  emulate, 
the  baby  was  duly  christened  "Major."  Four 
others  followed  in  quick  succession. 

When  the  ceremony  was  over,  I  made  the    "Churched" 

in  the  wood 
previous  announcement  again,  and  was  aston- 

ished when  the  mother  of  "Major"  said  she 
had  not  been  "Churched,"  and  would  I  mind 
doing  it?  I  suppose  there  are  very  few 
clergymen  in  the  United  States  who  have 
used  the  whole  of  the  office  for  the  "Church- 
ing of  women  after  childbirth  "  in  public,  but 
with  the  assistance  of  the  poor  woman  who 
21 


KecotCectlons  of  a 

had  read  the  responses  in  the  baptism,  and  who 
now  stood  by  her  humble  gypsy  sister  with 
her  arm  around  her  waist  and  with  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  we  finished  that  service  also. 

"Is  there  anything  more  !  "  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother  of  the  dead  baby 
coming  forward  with  the  little  body,  which 
she  lifted  from  its  coffin,  clasped  in  her  arms. 
"Won't  you  baptize  this  one  f  " 

An  agonized    v  I  gently  told  her  that  I  could  not  baptize 
mother 

the  dead— that  it  was  neither  necessary  nor 

right.  But  she  would  not  be  convinced.  She 
begged  and  implored,  and  at  last  fell  on  her 
knees  before  me  and  held  up  in  front  of  me 
the  still,  white  little  bundle  of  what  had 
been  humanity,  and  agonizingly  besought  me, 
in  the  terrified  accents  of  guilt  and  despair,  to 
perform  the— to  it— useless  service. 

I  explained  to  her  as  well  as  a  young  man 
could  the  situation,  told  her  the  baby  was  all 
right,  and  that  even  though  she  had  failed  in 
her  duty,  God  would  certainly  accept  her  evi- 
dent contrition.  Friends  took  the  baby  away 
at  last,  and  raised  her  up,  and  then  I  turned 
and  faced  the  awe -struck  crowd  again. 

22 


in  tge  Great  West 


The  noise  had  died  away,  the  laughter  and  Cod  with  us 
jests  were  still,  the  rude  speech  was  hushed. 
Tears  were  streaming  down  the  hollow  cheeks 
of  the  wretched  women.  I  spoke  to  them 
that  time  out  of  a  full  heart.  It  was  only  the 
second  time  that  I  tried  to  speak  without 
notes,  and  this  time  there  was  no  hesitation. 
God  helped  me. 

They  had  listened  to  me  say  the  Lord's 
Prayer  in  silence  in  the  service  before,  and 
when  I  finished  my  remarks,  and  invited  them 
again  and  knelt  down  in  the  dust,  most  of 
those  near  by  knelt  with  me,  and  the  rest 
bowed  their  heads  reverently,  while  many 
joined,  falteringly  at  first,  but  more  strongly 
as  the  sentences  came,  in  the  prayer  of  "Our 
Father  who  art  in  heaven." 

They  opened  respectfully  before  us  as  we 
took  the  baby  and  walked  to  the  carriages. 
Some  of  the  women  laid  their  hands  gently  on 
my  surplice  as  with  bowed  head  I  walked 
past  them.  I  turned  about  as  we  drove  off, 
and  saw  them  break  up  into  little  groups  and 
walk  quietly  and  thoughtfully  away  in  differ- 
ent directions,  after  such  a  Sunday  afternoon 
23 


RecoCCections  of  a 

as  probably  many  of  them  had  never  spent 
before. 

A  regenera-    After  the  services  at  the  cemetery,  the  chief 

tion  indeed 

of  the  gypsy  tribe,  a  rather  distinguished-look- 
ing old  man,  put  into  my  hand  a  handful  of 
money— coins  and  bills.  I  refused  to  take  it, 
saying  we  made  no  charge  for  services  of  that 
kind  ;  but  he  pressed  it  upon  me  with  the  re- 
mark that  I  could  use  it  for  some  woman  in 
trouble.  On  those  terms  I  received  it. 

That  night  I  had  a  visitor.  It  was  the 
wretched  woman  who  had  read  the  responses. 
That  brief  hour  in  which  only  as  the  voice  of 
another  she  had  assumed  the  responsibilities 
of  a  woman  and  a  Christian  had  recalled  her 
to  a  sense  of  her  lost  innocence  and  purity, 
and  she  had  resolved,  by  God's  help,  to  begin 
again.  It  was  a  true  baptism,  a  regeneration 
indeed  !  The  gypsy's  money  started  her  upon 
a  new.  way,  which  she  pursued  unswervingly 
as  long  as  I  knew  her.  May  her  feet  tread 
the  paths  of  righteousness  until  the  end ! 

Baptizing  the    This  service  was  a  great  strain  on  the  ner- 
vous system  of  the  young  man,  but  the  baptism 

24 


in  tfje  Great  West 


reminds  me  of  another  that  I  administered 
long  after  under  different  circumstances.  It 
was  in  the  home  of  a  family  somewhat  indiffer- 
ent to  religion,  in  a  very  far  Western  town. 
I  was  very  anxious,  as  always,  to  impress 
them  with  the  beauty  and  simplicity  of  the 
service,  and  I  did  my  best  in  its  rendition. 
The  person  I  baptized  was  a  little  boy  about 
five  years  old.  After  I  had  finished  there 
was  a  pause,  which  the  lad  broke,  looking  up 
into  my  face  and  delivering  this  remark  with 
a  solemnity  and  earnestness  which  only  added 
to  my  consternation  : 

"Mr.  Brady,  I  baptized  my  dog  this  morn- 
ing to  see  how  he  'd  like  it  !  "  I  always  felt 
that  the  hoped-for  effect  of  that  service  was 
dissipated  by  that  artless  remark. 

To  go  back,—  indeed,  I  have  gone  and  shall     Belshazzar 

go  whithersoever  my  memory  leads  me,  with- 

out regard  to  chronology,  in  these  rambling 

reminiscences,—  shortly  after  the  first  baptism, 

the  dean,  the  bishop,  and  the  honorary  canons 

went  to  the  General  Convention  and  left  me 

in  charge  of  the  cathedral.     It  was  a  noble  po- 

25 


^RecoUect'ions  of  a 

sition  and  I  enjoyed  it  extremely.  As  each 
Sunday  came  around,  the  temptation  to 
preach  without  notes  would  recur  with  added 
force,  and  finally,  on  the  last  Sunday  before 
they  all  came  back,  I  resolved  to  try  it  once 
more. 

Undeterred  by  my  previous  experience,  I 
fixed  upon  Belshazzar  again  as  a  fitting 
subject.  He  fascinated  me  !  *  I  prepared  the 
sermon  in  the  same  manner  as  before,  and 
when  the  eventful  Sunday  night  came  I  actu- 
ally got  through  with  it— at  a  breakneck 
pace  and  in  a  very  nervous  and  frightened 
way,  I  admit ;  but  I  did  not  break  down,  nor 
stop  to  give  the  bewildered  people  time  to 
breathe  nor  even  to  consider  the  various  points 
of  the  sermon,  which  was  doubtless  an  advan- 
tage for  me  and  for  them  as  well. 

/  become  a  The  next  Sunday,  as  all  the  clergy  returned 
iary  at  the  same  time,  from  doing  everything  my- 
self I  dropped  to  the  position  of  a  factotum 
whose  only  office  was  to  hand  the  alms-basin ! 
Next  Monday  I  told  the  bishop  that  I  would 
resign  my  position  and  go  out  and  be  a  mis- 

*  He  does  yet  I 

26 


lyiissionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

sionary— a  course  which  he  had  been  urging 
upon  me.  Such  offers  were  rare,  and  he 
allotted  me  three  mission  stations  with  an 
alacrity  only  equalled  by  that  with  which  I 
accepted  the  position.  That  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  missionary  life  which  took  me  into 
five  Western  States  and  Territories  and  lasted 
many  years. 

The  following  Sunday  I  began  my  tour  of     Again  the 

Assyrian 

duty.  I  preached  on  Belshazzar  in  the  morn- 
ing at  one  place,  and  made  him  do  duty 
at  night  at  another.  On  Tuesday  I  went  to 
the  third  place,  and  intoxicated  with  my  pre- 
vious success,  I  used  the  overworked  Assyrian 
once  more. 

After  the  service,  a  pleasant-looking  man    And  the  trav- 
elling man 

stepped  up  to  me,  and  we  shook  hands,  where- 
upon he  said : 

"That  is  a  very  fine  sermon  of  yours." 

I  was,  of  course,  greatly  pleased,  and  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  it  had  done  him  good. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  has.  I  thought  it  was  a 
fine  sermon  when  I  heard  it  first  two  Sundays 
ago ;  I  liked  it  better  when  I  heard  it  last 
27 


RecoU ections  of  a 

Sunday  morning ;  and  as  I  happened  to  go  to 
the  town  where  you  preached  on  Sunday 
night,  I  heard  it  there  also.  When  I  made 
this  town— I  am  a  travelling  man— and  saw 
in  the  paper  that  you  were  to  preach,  I 
thought  I  would  come  around  and  see  if  I 
could  not  meet  my  old  friend.  I  have  liked 
it  better  each  time  I  heard  it,"  he  added,  with 
a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "Won't  you  let 
me  know  when  and  where  you  are  going  to 
preach  it  again  ?  " 

Imagine  my  horror  and  shame  and  confu- 
sion. I  confessed  to  him  frankly  that  Bel- 
shazzar  was  not  only  my  best  but  my  only  ex- 
temporaneous sermon,  and  we  became  great 
friends.  I  have  hardly  ever  dared,  however, 
to  use  that  discourse  since,  for  something 
always  happens  when  my  thoughts  turn  on 
Belshazzar. 

The  story  of  a  Some  years  later,  when  I  was  rector  of  a 
beautiful  parish  church  in  a  Western  State, 
I  preached  about  him  under  the  caption  of 
"The  Story  of  a  Bad  Boy,"  which  he  certainly 
was.  During  the  services  we  had  a  vivid 
illustration  of  what  bad  boys  were,  for  the 

28 


(Missionary  in  t/)e  Great  West 

rectory  adjoining  the  church  was  robbed  of 
everything  movable  and  valuable  except  the 
children,  and  on  that  same  night,  during  the 
service,  one  of  the  congregation  had  a  fit  in 
the  back  of  the  church.  I  wondered  if  by 
any  chance  it  might  be  my  travelling  friend 
who  was  hearing  the  sermon  for  the  fifth  time  ! 

And  that  reminds  me  of  an  afflicted  woman  MM  over 
who  went  for  treatment  to  an  eminent  but 
tactless  specialist,  who  brutally  told  her,  in  a 
moment  of  unworthy  petulance,  that  she  had 
an  incurable  disease  which  would  probably,  in 
the  end,  destroy  her  mind.  She  indignantly 
repelled  his  assertions,  and  vowed  that  she 
would  show  him  by  her  visits  from  time  to 
time  that  her  sanity  was  not  impaired.  She 
was  a  brilliant  and  able  woman,  highly  cul- 
tured, and  possessed  of  a  remarkable  will 
power.  Her  life  after  that  was  one  long  duel 
between  her  will  and  the  recurring  attacks  of 
the  dread  disease.  She  visited  that  grim 
physician  as  long  as  she  was  able  to  do  so,  and 
he  had  the  bitter  satisfaction  of  gradually  see- 
ing the  realization  of  his  frightful  prophecy. 
29 


Hecoltectlons  of  a 

After  the  last  attack,  before  her  mind  entirely 
gave  way,  she  begged  piteously  to  be  taken  to 
that  doctor  again  to  let  him  see  she  was  still 
the  master  !  And  when  the  final  break  came 
she  clung  tenaciously  to  that  dominant  idea, 
and  all  her  madness  culminated  in  the  expres- 
sion again  and  again  of  that  desire,  until 
death  restored  the  unfortunate  to  her  reason 
once  more.  As  to  that  ruthless  prophet,  he 
was  deservedly  held  without  honor  in  his  own 
country  among  those  who  knew  the  circum- 
stances. 

"Notwith-  I  did  not  attempt  sermons  without  notes 
for  a  long  time,  and  when  I  did  I  had  many 
bitter  experiences  before  I  learned  to  keep 
my  brain  a  few  sentences  ahead  of  my  lips 
while  standing  on  my  feet.  I  have  frequently 
piled  up  possible  "notwithstandings,"  i.e., 
notwithstanding  this,  notwithstanding  that, 
and  notwithstanding  the  other,  and  then  have 
forgotten  just  what  was  to  happen  "notwith- 
standing "  ! 

Disregarding    Other  stations  were  added  to  my  first  mis- 

the  weather  fidd  Qut  Qn  ^  frontiers  of  the  diocese, 

30 


in  tge  Great  West 


until  I  had  a  large  amount  of  territory  to 
cover.  I  held  services  at  one  place  Sunday 
morning,  drove  twelve  miles  and  a  half  to  an- 
other place  for  afternoon  services,  and  re- 
turned to  the  first  place  for  service  at  night, 
taking  the  other  towns  on  week-nights.  In  a 
year  and  nine  months  I  never  missed  a  ser- 
vice. I  rode  or  drove  long  distances  in  every 
conceivable  sort  of  weather,  under  burning 
suns,  through  tropic  rains,  in  the  midst  of 
blinding  dust-storms,  in  winter's  blasting  cold, 
and  finally,  on  one  notable  occasion,  in  a 
frightful  blizzard. 

"We  had  the  usual  service  on  Sunday  morn-  A  blizzard 
ing,  very  slimly  attended,  and  after  a  hasty 
dinner  I  started  for  the  south.  I  had  two 
rough,  wiry  broncos,—  the  horse  par  excellence 
for  missionary  work,  as  well  as  a  splendid  sub- 
ject for  missionary  effort,—  a  sleigh,  and  a  com- 
panion. The  thermometer  had  fallen  to  18° 
below  zero.  The  road  lay  due  south,  down 
a  valley  through  which  the  wind  drove  with 
terrific  force.  A  light  snow  was  beginning 
to  fall  as  we  started  out,  much  against  the 
wise  counsels  of  everybody,  but  I  was  young 
31 


KecoCCections  of  a 

and  foolish  and  did  not  take  heed.  We  two 
men  tucked  into  the  sleigh  between  us  a  little 
schoolmistress  who  had  to  go  to  the  next  town 
to  see  a  very  sick  mother.  Going  down  with 
the  wind  and  snow  on  our  backs  was  not  so 
bad,  and  we  reached  the  church  at  the  usual 
hour. 

Facing  the  Two  or  three  men  had  braved  the  storm  on 
the  chance  that  I  might  come,  as  I  had  never 
failed,  though  they  did  not  expect  me  ;  and  so, 
in  the  intensely  cold  church,  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  heat,  with  all  our  winter  wrap- 
pings on,  we  knelt  down  and  said  the  Litany 
together.  Then  we  got  a  bite  to  eat,  and  the 
horses  having  been  baited  and  rubbed  down, 
we  started  again,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  our  friends.  It  was  foolish  pride,  perhaps, 
but  I  determined  not  to  miss  a  single  service 
on  that  day,  if  possible.  Facing  the  storm, 
which  had  risen  and  was  in  the  height  of  its 
fury,  was  simply  awful.  I  was  actually  wear- 
ing summer  underclothing  at  the  time,  my 
missionary  box  from  the  East  not  yet  having 
arrived,  and  I  thought  I  should  die  !  Had  I 
not  been  originally  one  of  the  most  robust  of 

32 


^Missionary  in  t§e  Great  West 

men,  I  hardly  see  how  I  could  have  survived 
the  exposure  of  that  day  and  the  rest  of  the 
winter,  but  my  early  training  stood  me  in 
good  stead.  My  companion  utterly  gave  way, 
and  finally  sank  down  in  the  sleigh  under  the 
buffalo  robes,  where  I  continuously  kicked 
him  to  keep  him  from  going  to  sleep. 

I  had  a  scarf  called  a  "nubia"  wrapped  How  I  breathed 
around  my  face,  covering  it  all  except  the  lee- 
ward eye,  out  of  which  I  was  continually 
obliged  to  brush  the  frozen  snow.  My  breath 
froze  on  the  wool,  of  course,  and  I  thrust  my 
handkerchief  between  the  scarf  and  my  face 
until  the  handkerchief  froze  as  well.  Then  I 
bethought  me  of  a  little  prayer-book  which  I 
carried  in  the  breast-pocket  of  my  ulster. 
I  opened  it  in  the  middle  and  laid  it  across 
my  nose  under  the  scarf,  making  a  little  pent- 
house through  which  I  could  breathe. 

I  tried  to  keep  the  way  by  watching  the  Lost  in  the 
telegraph-poles,  but  very  soon  lost  sight  of 
them  in  the  whirling  storm.  The  reins  lay 
loose  in  my  benumbed  hands.  The  faithful 
broncos,  however,  left  to  their  own  devices, 
toiled  slowly  along  in  the  face  of  the  mad  rush 
33 


RecoCt ections  of  a 

of  the  wind  and  the  blinding  drive  of  the 
freezing  snow  over  the  prairie.  Presently  I 
lost  all  idea  of  the  way ;  I  think  I  had  sense 
enough  to  keep  the  horses'  heads  to  the  storm, 
but  that  was  all,  and  I  was  too  cold  and  too 
much  benumbed  to  remember  anything.  All 
that  I  could  think  of  was  to  keep  up  my 
rhythmical  kicking  of  the  man  at  my  feet. 

After  a  long  time,  it  seemed  to  me  ages,  of 
such  agony  as  I  never  want  to  endure  again, 
the  horses  stopped  at  their  stable  doors.  It 
was  dark  night  by  this  time.  The  stable-men 
were  greatly  surprised  to  see  us,  as  they  never 
dreamed  we  would  attempt  the  journey.  My 
companion  was  hastily  taken  to  his  house,  and 
I  was  assisted  to  my  own,  which  fortunately 
was  not  very  far  away.  Some  of  the  vestry- 
men had  come  down  to  the  rectory  to  see  if  I 
had  returned,  and  they  were  waiting  in  great 
anxiety  for  my  arrival. 

Proud  of  my  Before  I  fully  realized  the  extent  to  which 
I  was  knocked  out  by  the  hardships  of  the 
day,  I  insisted  upon  taking  the  little  handful 
of  men  over  to  the  church.  "We  lighted  the 
lamps  and  went  through  the  Litany  together 

34 


Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

again.  It  was  foolish,  of  course,  but  somehow 
it  is  the  only  act  of  folly  in  my  life  upon 
which  I  look  back  with  pleasure.  Ours  was 
the  only  church  in  town  that  night  to  have 
services.  Of  course  the  papers  were  full  of  it, 
and  the  next  time  I  had  services  what  a  con- 
gregation greeted  me !  I  was  rather  badly 
frozen  up,  but  neither  my  companion  nor  I 
sustained  any  serious  injury. 


35 


CHAPTER  III 

Mad  at  Cod  T~F  the  weather,  however,  did  not  put  a  stop 
JL  to  the  services,  it  sometimes  played  havoc 
with  those  necessary  concomitants  of  religious 
life  in  the  far  West  known  as  "  church  socia- 
bles." On  one  occasion,  in  one  of  my  missions, 
we  had  made  elaborate  preparations  for  a 
great  crowd,  which  was  kept  at  home  by  a 
heavy  rain.  A  few  of  us  who  had  braved  the 
storm  were  seated  in  great  discomfort  in  the 
parlor,  expressing  our  opinions  with  the  free- 
dom we  all  use  in  like  circumstances.  A 
small  daughter  of  the  house,  who  had  been  an 
interested  listener,  suddenly  remarked,  in  a 
pause  in  the  conversation  : 

"Now  you  're  all  mad  at  God  because  it  7s 
raining ! " 

"Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  suck- 
lings .  .  ."! 

Malachi  Yant  My  first  sexton  was  a  most  curious-looking 
individual  who  was  of  the  Dunkard  persua- 

36 


g  ffljssionaiy  in  tge  Great  West 

sion,  and  rejoiced  under  the  name  of  Malachi 
Yant.  He  was  a  short,  squat  man,  with  dust- 
colored  hair  which  stood  out  from  his  head 
like  the  fabulous  pictures  of  the  Circassian 
girl  in  the  circus  poster.  In  nothing  else, 
however,  did  he  resemble  a  Circassian.  He 
was  dust- colored  all  over,  and  gave  one  the 
impression  that  if  he  were  suddenly  shaken 
the  dust  would  radiate  from  him  as  water  is 
showered  from  a  dog  after  a  plunge  in  the 
river,  especially  from  that  broom-like  head  of 
hair.  When  he  was  not  serving  the  church 
he  was  a  sort  of  amateur  butcher. 

I  went  to  call  on  him  one  morning  soon    A  lack  of  ex- 
after  my  arrival.     His  wife  met  me  at  the      pet 
door  and  told  me  that  I  would  find  him  in 
the  back  yard— he  was  busy.     As  I  turned  to 
seek  him,  he  came  around  the  corner  of  the 
house.    He  was  a  frightful  spectacle,  all  cov- 
ered with  blood  and  animal  debris,  and  smelt 
vilely.     I  started  back  in  horror. 

"What  have  you  been  doing?"  I  asked. 

"I  7ve  been  killin'  hogs,"  he  said  slowly. 
"Ain't  you  never  seen  a  hog  killed?  "  he  asked 
with  some  scorn. 
37 


'Recollections  of  a 

Unfortunately  I  never  had,  and  I  could  see 
that  my  ignorance  caused  me  to  fall  visibly  in 
his  estimation. 

The  next  Sunday  one  of  the  women  of  the 
parish  asked  him  how  he  liked  the  new  min- 
ister. 

"I  don't  like  him  at  all,"  answered  Malachi, 
grimly.  "He  ain't  had  no  experience  whatso- 
ever. He  ain't  never  seen  a  hog  killed  ! " 

Information  on  Speaking  of  hogs  reminds  me  of  a  long  rail- 
road journey  I  took,  during  which  I  became 
very  much  interested  in  a  conversation  with 
a  man  who  sat  beside  me  in  the  crowded  car. 
I  found  he  was  an  authority  on  the  hog-chol- 
era. The  disease  is  not  romantic,  but  when 
it  sweeps  away  in  a  few  days  every  cent  you 
have  on  earth— including  what  you  have  bor- 
rowed and  invested  in  pork  on  the  hoof— it 
becomes  tragic.  I  discussed  the  matter  with 
him .  for  several  hours,  and  learned  a  great 
deal  about  the  insidious  disease.  We  both 
got  off  at  the  same  town,  and  I  invited  him 
to  come  up  to  the  church  that  night  and  join 
in  the  services. 

38 


in  tge  Great  West 


"Good  gosh  !  "  he  said,  looking  me  over—  I 
wore  my  ordinary  brown  clothes,  and  was 
covered  with  dust,  as  usual.  "Are  you  a 
preacher  I  " 

"I  try  to  be,  in  a  small  way,"  I  answered, 
smiling. 

"Well,  I  '11  be  hanged  !  "  he  replied  in  great 
astonishment.  "I  took  you  for  a  farmer  ! 
What  did  you  want  to  know  all  that  about 
hog-cholera  for?  " 

He  came  to  the  service,  however,  and  after- 
wards became  one  of  my  right-hand  men  in 
another  mission.  What  I  had  learned  about 
hog-cholera  proved  to  be  of  great  value  on 
several  occasions  when  I  was  the  guest  of 
some  of  my  farmer  friends. 

When  I  reached  a  certain  town  on  the  bor-    Wearing  and 

der  I  always  found  the   church  beautifully 

clean,  the  fires  lighted,  the  lamps  filled,  and 

everything  in  good  order.     A  faithful  woman 

attended  to  these  things.    But  on  one  occasion 

I  found  that  nothing  had  been  done.     I  fixed 

things  up  as  well  as  I  could  alone,  and  after 

the  service  I  went  over  to  her  house  to  find 

39 


•Recotf ections  of  a 

out  what  was  the  matter.  Her  absence  was 
easily  explained.  She  had  sustained  a  serious 
injury  some  time  before,  and  that  afternoon  an 
operation  had  been  performed  upon  her.  She 
was  a  Daughter  of  the  King.  When  I  came 
into  the  room,  she  was  lying,  very  white  and 
weak,  upon  the  bed.  She  whispered  to  me  to 
turn  down  the  cover  a  little.  I  did  so,  and 
there,  on  the  breast  of  her  night-robe,  was 
pinned  the  little  silver  cross  of  the  order. 
She  had  suffered  agonies  uncomplainingly,  I 
was  told,  and  I  understood  her  when  she 
whispered : 

"I  am  wearing  it  and  bearing  it  as  well." 
They  told  me  she  had  gone  to  sleep  under 
the  ether  with  her  hand  clasped  around  the 
little  cross. 

Daughters  of  Oh,  those  Daughters  of  the  King !  How  they 
proved  their  right  to  bear  that  name  !  I  rode 
forty  miles,  one  day,  to  make  a  little  town, 
when  I  was  archdeacon  of  another  diocese,  to 
bury  one  of  them.  I  had  just  come  from  the 
funeral  of  the  bishop  in  the  cathedral.  There 
were  the  sweetest  music,  the  loveliest  flowers, 

40 


^Missionary  in  tfye  Great  West 

the  white -robed  clergy,  bishops  of  the  Church, 
and  great  crowds  of  people  who  had  loved  the 
dead  bishop  as  children  love  a  father ;  and 
everything  had  been  done  to  do  honor  to  the 
memory  of  that  great  man  who  had  been 
taken  away  from  us. 

Here  in  this  little  town  was  a  humble  cot-  A  frontier 
tage,  half  dug-out,  half  log  cabin.  The  winter  *"n 
and  the  spring  had  been  one  of  the  hardest 
through  which  the  diocese  had  ever  passed, 
and  the  blighting  hand  of  poverty  and  distress 
had  simply  deprived  the  people  of  everything 
except  the  barest  and  rudest  necessities  of  life ; 
they  were  many  of  them  actually  in  want. 
The  woman  who  died  was  a  Daughter  of  the 
King.  The  five  or  six  members  of  the  order 
who  formed  the  chapter  in  the  village  had 
done  their  best  for  her.  They  had  gathered 
somewhere  a  little  pitiful  bunch  of  ragged 
flowers  which  they  had  put  upon  her  breast, 
where  she  was  laid  in  the  rude  pine  coffin ; 
and  with  the  harsh  voices  of  those  whose  lives 
are  spent  in  hard  toil  they  sang  and  chanted 
the  service. 

It  was  the  same  service,  and  by  chance 
41 


Recollections  of  a 


The  rich  and 
m**  * 


Told  by  the 
broken  shoes 


some  of  the  same  hymns,  which  had  been  used 
so  splendidly  for  the  great  bishop.  "The 
rich  and  poor  meet  together  :  the  Lord  is  the 
maker  of  them  all."  Man  could  do  no  more 
for  the  one  than  for  the  other.  The  feeble 
cry  of  a  new-born  life  in  the  next  room  sadly 
interrupted  me  as  I  read  the  service.  I  have 
often  wondered  if  there  was  not  some  deeper 
meaning  than  we  dream  of  in  that  scriptural 
verse  which  says  :  "Notwithstanding  she  shall 
be  saved  in  child-bearing."  There  were  no 
carriages  there.  They  were  all  so  poor  that 
we  walked  to  the  little  cemetery,  a  straggling 
procession  over  the  bleak  prairie,  the  men 
carrying  the  coffin  on  their  shoulders. 

During  the  service,  as  the  women  sat  around 
me,  I  noticed  their  feet  thrust  out  from  be- 
neath the  frayed  borders  of  their  well-worn 
dresses,  and  through  their  broken  shoes  I 
could  see  that  some  of  them  on  that  bitter 
cold  day  had  no  stockings  on  !  Yet  when 
the  chapters  of  the  order  sent  up  their  contri- 
butions to  pay  the  salary  of  a  new  missionary, 
as  their  memorial  to  the  memory  of  the  be- 
loved bishop,  this  little  chapter  of  poverty 

42 


in  tge  Great  West 


and  care  was  remarkable  for  the  amount  of  its 
gifts !  Truly  from  those  who  have  not  more 
is  to  be  received  than  from  those  who  have. 

There  were  several  hundred  Daughters  of  Supporting  a 
the  King  in  that  diocese  who  had  agreed  to 
take  ten  cents  and  so  use  it  as  to  increase  it 
to  a  dollar,  more  or  less,  which  was  to  be  sent 
to  the  secretary,  to  be  used  for  the  salary  of  a 
missionary  for  the  next  year.  The  amount 
which  would  keep  a  missionary  in  the  field 
for  a  year,  in  connection  with  the  contribu- 
tions he  would  receive  from  the  people  among 
whom  he  worked,  was  only  three  hundred 
dollars.  As  everywhere,  the  missionaries 
were  poorly  paid.  They  more  than  raised 
this  amount,  and  they  earned  it,  most  of 
them,  in  very  peculiar  ways. 

One  woman,  a  graduate  of  one  of  the  noted  A  sick  pig 
Eastern  colleges,  whose  husband  was  trying 
to  weather  a  temporary  financial  storm,  a  fre- 
quent occupation  with  business  men  out  there, 
was  at  her  wits'  end  to  know  what  to  do  with 
her  ten  cents,  until  her  husband  told  her,  one 
day,  that  he  had  a  sick  pig  on  his  farm  which 
43 


RecoLlections  of  a 

he  would  give  her  for  missionary  purposes  if 
she  could  do  anything  with  it.  Some  people 
never  give  anything  but  "sick  "  pigs  for  mis- 
sions, by  the  way,  though  this  man  was  not  of 
that  kind. 

And  how  he        His  wife  had  some  little  knowledge  of  medi- 
was  cured 

cine  and  anatomy  and  a  great  deal  of  common 

sense.  She  studied  the  pig  and  accurately  di- 
agnosed his  case.  Through  the  kindness  of  a 
local  druggist,  she  so  brilliantly  invested  her 
ten  cents  in  medicine,  and  so  successfully 
treated  the  sick  porker,  that  he  not  only  got 
well,  but  through  her  scientific  dieting  became 
the  largest  and  finest  of  the  drove,  and  sold  in 
the  end  for  a  very  good  price  indeed,  so  that 
she  had  the  honor  of  sending  in  the  largest 
contribution  to  the  missionary's  salary.  She 
told  me  she  had  become  so  much  attached  to 
the  animal  during  the  course  of  treatment 
that  it  was  with  poignant  regret  she  saw  him 
led  away  to  be  slaughtered.  It  was  a  pure 
case  of  applied  science. 

Speeding  the    Speaking  of  college  women  reminds  me  of 
p  ous         another,  who  had  married  a  young  man,  well 

44 


in  tfje  Great  West 


educated  and  charming,  who  had  come  from 
the  East  to  make  his  fortune  on  a  farm.  It 
requires  a  peculiar  talent  to  be  a  good  farmer, 
and  much  intellectuality  to  grasp  the  details 
and  learn  the  methods.  I  found  out  that  it 
was  a  deep  subject  the  first  time  I  took  the 
plough-handles  from  the  young  boy  who  was 
guiding  them  with  one  hand.  I  discovered  that 
it  was  not  as  easy  as  it  looked,  for  I  ploughed 
that  furrow  by  main  strength.  I  forced  the 
share  through  the  earth  by  my  unaided  efforts  ; 
at  least,  I  could  not  see  that  the  horses  did 
anything  particular,  except  to  keep  ahead, 
although  sometimes  the  machine  took  long 
bounds  over  the  surface,  so  that  when  my  row 
was  finished  it  looked  like  a  succession  of  dots 
and  dashes  !  The  farmer  and  his  son  were 
dying  of  laughter  at  my  red  face,  strained 
back,  blistered  hands,  and  panting  breast,  so  I 
felt  my  religious  influence  over  them  would 
be  gone  until  I  learned  how  to  do  it,  which  I 
presently  did.  Hie  labor,  Me  opus  est  ! 

To  return  to  my  story,  this  young  man  was      Trifles  for 
utterly    impracticable.     He    knew    nothing 
about  farming,  and  did  not  have  the  particu- 
45 


^.ecoCCections  of  a 

lar  bent  of  mind  by  which  he  could  learn.  A 
succession  of  bad  years  and  partial  crop  fail- 
ures, and  recurring  children— they  are  the  only 
crops  which  never  fail  on  a  frontier  farm— re- 
duced the  family  to  the  direst  depths.  The 
woman  had  a  pretty  taste  with  her  pen  and 
pencil,  and  she  actually  supported  them, 
proudly  rejecting  any  offers  of  charity,  during 
one  hard,  long  winter,  by  painting  and  em- 
broidering dainty  trifles,  which  her  friends 
carried  about  throughout  the  State  and  dis- 
posed of  for  her.  And  she  did  all  the  other 
work  that  devolved  upon  her,  besides. 

The  farmer's  The  life  of  a  frontier  farmer's  wife  is  about 
the  hardest  which  can  fall  to  the  lot  of 
woman.  She  has  duties  about  which  her  more 
favored  sisters  know  nothing.  All  the  cares 
of  a  large  and  ever-increasing  family,  with 
several  hired  hands  to  cook  and  wash  for,  usu- 
ally a  calf  or  two  to  bring  up  by  hand,  a  brood 
of  motherless  chicks  needing  attention,  a 
kitchen-garden,  cows  to  milk,  and  Heaven 
only  knows  what  else !  She  has  no  society 
and  no  amusements,  very  infrequent  Church 

46 


in  tge  Great  West 


services,  with  no  time  to  read  and  no  place  to 
go.  She  even  finds  no  interest  in  the  changing 
fashions,  for  the  fashion  of  her  narrow  world 
never  changes.  Her  life  is  a  tragedy—  the 
saddest  of  all—  of  the  commonplace.  She  often 
dies  old  in  middle  age,  or  goes  mad.  The 
largest  group  in  the  State  lunatic  asylums  is 
made  up  of  farmers'  wives. 

When  by  chance  she  does  survive  all  the 
troubles  and  labors  of  youth  and  middle  life, 
she  becomes  one  of  the  finest,  sturdiest, 
strongest,  most  independent  and  self-respect- 
ing of  women.  She  has  suffered,  struggled, 
and  not  been  broken  !  The  men  live  other 
and  larger  lives.  They  are  in  the  open  air, 
mainly  ;  they  go  to  town  frequently,  trade, 
discuss,  vote.  It  is  a  different  story. 

Wherever  I  went,  I  never  got  away  from   The  woman  in 
culture  and  refinement.     I  stopped  for  a  glass    ihe  sod  house 
of  water  once  at  a  nondescript  dwelling,  half 
dug-out,  half  sod  house,  alone  on  the  prairie. 
As  I  dismounted  from  my  horse  a  woman 
came  out  to  meet  me.     She  had  been  graceful 
and  pretty.     I  could  see  it  in  spite  of  her 
47 


Recottections  of  a 

worn,  haggard,  overworked  look.  I  re- 
marked, as  I  took  the  proffered  tin  dipper  of 
water,  that  I  had  never  seen  a  house  quite 
like  that  before.  She  answered  that  neither 
had  she,  but  that  she  was  even  glad  for  that 
poor  shelter  for  herself  and  children.  She, 
too,  was  a  graduate  of  an  Eastern  college,  and 
I  baptized  her  two  little  children  before  I 
rode  away.  Her  husband  was  away  after  cat- 
tle and  she  was  alone.  There  was  not  another 
house  for  miles  in  any  direction. 

it  all  depends  Oh,  the  hardships  the  people  endured  in 
bad  years !  I  will  not  slander  the  Western 
country.  When  it  gets  water  it  blossoms  like 
the  rose,  and  crops  are  simply  enormous. 
People  who  live  in  the  East  have  no  idea  of 
the  fertility  of  the  soil  and  the  luxuriance  of 
the  vegetation  when  there  is  rain.  But  they 
are  equally  unable  to  realize  the  aridity  and 
desolation  of  the  land  when  there  is  no  water. 
I  have  seen  it  when  the  hot  winds  came  up 
from  the  south  and  fairly  withered  the  grain. 
I  have  ridden  for  two  days  through  walls  of 
corn  that  towered  above  my  head  as  I  sat  my 

48 


in  tge  Great  West 


horse,  and  two  days  after  I  have  seen  that 
same  corn  wilted  and  ruined  as  if  a  gigantic 
flat-iron  had  been  pressed  upon  it.  When 
two  or  three  years  of  drought  would  follow  in 
succession,  the  misery  of  the  people  would  be- 
come almost  unendurable. 

I  remember,  after  burying  the  Daughter  of  Burned  up 
the  King  I  told  you  of,  I  hitched  up  a  pair  of 
broncos  and  drove  off  to  a  town  twenty-seven 
miles  away.  There  had  been  no  rain  for 
months.  The  winter  wheat  was  all  killed  and 
corn  had  not  yet  been  planted.  The  fields 
were  bare  and  desolate  beyond  description. 
The  dust  from  the  roads,  where  it  had  not  been 
blown  away  by  the  fierce  winds,  was  over  the 
fetlocks  of  the  horses.  Everything  was  dry 
and  burned  up  to  the  last  degree.  It  was  a 
cold,  bleak  day  in  March. 

Driving  rapidly  along,  at  a  turn  in  the  road  "God's  forgot 
I  came  across  a  curious  picture.  There  was  a 
dilapidated  prairie-schooner,  which  was  in 
this  instance  a  common  farm-wagon  with  a 
tattered  canvas  top  on  circular  hoops. 
A  shabby,  faded,  dejected  woman  sat  on  the 
high  seat,  holding  a  nursing  baby  in  her  arms  ; 
49 


'Recollections  of  a 

two  little  children  stood  or  sat  beside  her; 
and  the  father  of  the  family  had  dismounted 
and  was  standing  in  the  road  by  his  team. 
One  of  his  horses— wretched  creatures  they 
were— had  fallen  in  the  traces  and  was  dying ; 
the  other  stood  quietly,  with  drooping  head, 
contemplating  his  companion.  Half  a  dozen 
gaunt,  starved  horses  were  looking  at  the 
group  from  over  a  fence  near  by,  in  a  manner 
which  strongly  suggested  compassion  and 
sympathy. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  road,  in  a  corn-field 
from  which  every  stalk  of  corn  had  been 
stripped  by  hungry  cattle,  lay  a  dead  cow  and 
two  dead  horses,  which  had  probably  starved 
or  died  of  thirst.  There  were  black  crows  cir- 
cling around,  and  over  everything  the  dust — 
blinding,  choking,  throttling  dust !  As  I  reined 
in  my  horses,  the  man  sat  down  in  the  wayside 
ditch,  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  looked 
at  the  dead  horse,  and  cried.  I  heard  the 
woman  say,  " Don't,  papa,  don't,"  as  I  stopped. 

"You  seem  to  be  in  trouble,  stranger,"  I 
said.  "Can  I  help  you?  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?" 

50 


(Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

" No,"  said  he,  looking  up  defiantly ;  "God  's 
forgot  us.  Drive  on." 

The  next  year  was  a  bountiful  one.  Such  His  only 
crops  I  never  saw,  and,  to  anticipate,  for  sev- 
eral years  after  they  continued  the  same. 
Just  for  curiosity,  I  once  tried  to  force  my 
horse  through  a  field  of  sorghum  used  for 
fodder,  and  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
making  any  progress  at  all,  so  thick  and  dense 
was  the  growth  of  the  cane.  In  the  fall  of 
that  year,  while  driving  along  the  country 
road,  I  came  across  another  prairie-schooner, 
with  a  happier  family  of  occupants.  I  asked 
the  man  where  he  was  going. 

"Goin'  back  East,"  he  said  blithely,— "back 
to  old  Illinois." 

"Did  n't  you  have  a  good  crop  this  year ?  " 
I  queried. 

"Splendid,  glorious  !  Never  saw  such  crops 
—such  a  yield,"  he  cried. 

"Well,  why  are  you  leaving,  then?"  I 
asked. 

"Stranger,"  he  said  impressively,  "this  is 
the  first  time  in  five  years  that  I  have  had 
51 


3  ^Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

any  crop  at  all,  and  it  >s  the  first  chance  in  five 
years  for  me  to  scrape  up  enough  money  to 
get  away.  I  swore  if  I  got  the  chance  I  would 
take  it,  and  that  's  why  I  am  goin'  back 
again." 

Sheridan's         Some  of  the  farmers,  the  better  ones,  pluck- 
opinion 

ily  stuck  it  out,  and  in  many  good  years  they 

reaped  their  reward.  General  Sheridan  said 
that  all  the  nether  world  needed  to  make  it 
habitable  was  water  and  good  society.  That 
country  had  plenty  of  society ;  it  only  wanted 
water. 


A  novel  horse  Horses  were  cheap  there;  in  fact,  you  could 
hardly  give  them  away.  I  remember,  a  stock- 
man came  to  a  friend  of  mine,  speaking  on 
this  wise : 

"I  've  got  six  young  and  middling  horses, 
well  broke  and,  considering  the  hard  times,  in 
pretty  fair  condition.  What  '11  you  give  me 
for  them  t " 

"I  '11  give  you  ten  just  like  them,"  said  my 
friend,  "and  think  myself  lucky  to  save  the 
feed  and  care  of  four  of  them." 


52 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN"  one  of  the  border  towns  we  had  services  An  abandoned 
in  an  abandoned  saloon.  The  building 
was  not  in  a  very  good  location  for  a  saloon  5 
that ?s  why  it  was  abandoned.  But  it  would 
do  very  well  for  a  church,— any  old  place 
would  do  for  that,  you  know,— so  we  cleaned 
it  out  and  fixed  it  up  nicely.  The  town  had 
been  a  very  wild  one,  and  the  saloon  had  been 
one  of  the  worst  there,  which  is  saying  a  good 
deal.  Men  had  been  killed  within  its  walls, 
and  some  grim,  ominous  stains  under  the 
chancel  carpet,  which,  like  Kizzio's  blood, 
could  not  be  washed  out,  told  the  story ;  but 
one  of  the  best  missions  I  ever  served  was  lo- 
cated just  there. 

Services  were  held  on  one  week-day,  after-     Exchanging 

r   courtesies  with 
noon  and  night,  every  six  weeks  or  so,  as  I      the  theatre 

could  get  to  them,  and  were  so  popular  that 
nearly  the  whole  town  attended  them.  A 
53 


ftecotCections  of  a 

wandering  and  somewhat  dilapidated  amuse- 
ment company— a  concert  troupe,  I  think  it 
was— once  drifted  into  the  town  and  made 
arrangements  to  give  a  performance  on  the 
night  appointed  for  the  services.  Very  few 
tickets  were  sold,  and  when  they  inquired  the 
reason  they  found  out  that  almost  everybody 
was  going  to  church.  They  came  to  us  then 
with  a  pitiful  tale,  which  their  appearance 
bore  out,  of  hard  times,  bad  luck,  and  small 
houses,  and  wanted  to  know  if  we  could  not 
help  them  in  some  way.  They  said  that  if  I 
would  appoint  the  hour  of  service  for  seven 
o'clock  they  would  postpone  their  performance 
until  half-past  eight.  Besides,  they  would 
give  me  a  free  ticket,  and  all  hands  come  to 
my  "show  "  if  I  would  go  to  theirs. 

I  accepted  their  offer,  of  course.  They 
were  all  interested  attendants  at  the  service, 
and  I  believe  they  reaped  a  fair  reward  by 
their  compromise  from  their  own  performance 
afterwards.  That  is  the  only  instance  on 
record,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  where  a 
theatrical  company  postponed  its  performance 
for  Church  services. 

54 


^Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 


One  summer  afternoon  I  found 
twenty-seven  miles  away  from  a  town  down 
in  the  Indian  Territory.  I  was  due  there  in 
the  evening  for  services  and  a  wedding. 
When  I  went  down  to  the  station  in  the  after- 
noon to  take  the  train,  I  found  that  heavy 
rains  and  a  cloud-burst  had  washed  out  the 
bridges,  and  that  no  train  would  be  sent 
through  until  the  next  day.  For  the  same 
reason  it  would  be  impossible  to  drive,  so  I 
determined  to  ride. 

A  friend  of  mine,  who,  because  he  was  the 
agent  of  the  Standard  Oil  Company  in  that 
country,  rejoiced  under  the  name  of  "Coal-oil 
Johnny,"  offered  to  get  a  couple  of  horses  and 
show  me  the  way.  So  I  telegraphed  ahead  to 
the  anxious  bride  that  I  would  be  there  that 
night— a  little  late,  perhaps,  but  that  I  would 
surely  come.  I  strapped  up  some  vestments 
in  a  little  roll  and  put  it  on  my  shoulders,  as 
I  had  an  idea  of  what  we  might  expect, 
mounted  the  broncos,  and  away  we  started. 

I  have  ridden  many  broncos,  but  this  was 
the  worst  I  ever  rode.  To  be  strictly  accurate, 
I  could  hardly  say  that  I  rode  him  at  all ;  I 
55 


myself    A  wild  ride  to 
a  wedding 


"Coal-oil 
Johnny" 


And  his 
broncos 


^.ecoCC ectlons  of  a 

managed  to  stick  on,  and  that  was  all.  He 
bucked  and  kicked  and  bit  and  shied  and 
stopped  and  balked  and  did  everything  for 
which  his  breed  is  famous.  It  sometimes 
seemed  to  me  that  he  was  doing  all  these 
things  at  the  same  time. 

A  clerical         When  he  made  up  his  mind  to  "go,"  how- 
spectace       eveT^  he  wen£  ifee   faG  win(j.     On   the  old 

principle  of  being  in  Kome  and  doing  as  the 
Komans,  I  soon  learned  that  the  cow-boy 
method  of  letting  the  reins  hang  loosely,  lift- 
ing them  high  in  the  air,  digging  in  the  spurs, 
and  yelling  frantically  in  his  ear  was  the  best 
way  to  accelerate  his  pace.  He  would  run 
and  continue  to  run  like  a  frightened  deer  as 
long  as  the  notion  seized  him,  and  a  nice,  dig- 
nified spectacle  we  must  have  presented  at 
such  times.  It  was  exhilarating,  but  danger- 
ous, for  the  ground  was  full  of  prairie-dog 
holes  hidden  in  the  buffalo-grass,  and  we 
never  knew  when  the  bronco  might  put  his 
foot  in  one,  break  his  leg,  and  perhaps  kill  his 
rider,  to  say  nothing  of  the  dog. 

Spurs  Coal-oil  Johnny's  horse  was  quite  as  bad 

as  mine.     He  said  he  had  meant  to  give  me 

56 


{Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

the  better  of  the  two,  but  mine  seemed  the 
worse— perhaps  because  I  rode  him.  They 
had  strapped  on  my  boots  a  pair  of  Mexican 
spurs  with  rowels  like  sharks'  teeth,  which 
annoyed  me  very  much  more  than  they  did 
my  bronco.  Every  time  I  inadvertently 
touched  him  he  had  a  fit.  However,  they 
were  the  only  things  by  which  he  could  be 
coerced  in  any  degree. 

"We  had  to  swim  two  rivers  and  one  creek.  Swimming  the 
I  had  crossed  them  a  few  days  before  on  the 
train ;  they  were  almost  dry  in  their  beds  ; 
now  they  were  roaring  torrents.  This  is  a 
common  occurrence  with  those  streams.  We 
forced  the  horses  in  the  swirling,  muddy  water 
of  the  river,  and,  when  we  got  into  the  deep 
water,  slipped  out  of  the  saddle,  and  retaining 
tight  hold  of  the  high  horn,  swam  alongside 
to  relieve  them  of  our  weight.  The  current 
swept  us  down  the  stream  with  fearful  veloc- 
ity, and  it  was  only  after  a  long,  hard  struggle 
that  we  reached  the  other  bank  a  long  dis- 
tance below  our  starting-point.  We  were 
forced  to  mount  while  the  horses  were  scram- 
bling out  of  the  water,  or  we  would  have  had 
57 


Kecottections  of  a 


A  grand 
entree 


great  difficulty  in  getting  into  the  saddle 
again.  The  other  streams  not  being  so  deep 
nor  so  swift,  we  remained  in  the  saddle. 
When  I  was  in  the  deep  water  and  touched 
him  with  the  spur,  I  found  that  I  finally  had 
the  advantage.  He  could  n't  buck  or  do  any- 
thing but  hump  himself  and  snort,  both  of 
which  he  did  with  great  vehemence. 

Late  in  the  evening  we  reached  the  town. 
Pretty  much  the  whole  population  were  out 
on  the  sidewalks,  including  the  groom  and 
friends  of  the  bride,  and,  amid  wild  cheering 
and  laughter,  the  two  wet,  bedraggled  figures 
rode  down  the  main  street,  both  horses  reserv- 
ing this  particular  moment  for  the  final  exhi- 
bition of  their  general  and  entire  wickedness. 
I  could  just  manage  to  walk  to  the  church 
that  evening,  for  I  never  was  so  sore  and  stiff 
in  my  life. 

Twnbleweed  We  had  a  pretty  wedding,  though  the  con- 
verted saloon  was  only  decorated  with  tum- 
bleweed,  and  the  carpet  upon  which  the 
bride  walked  to  the  groom's  spring-wagon 
was  of  the  kind  popularly  known  as  "rag"  ;  for 
the  bride  was  pretty  and  the  groom  was 

58 


"(Missionary  m  tlje  Great  West 

manly,  and,  after  all,  those  are  the  things 
which  count. 


I  said  that  the  bronco  was  the  best  possible     in  praise  of 
,  ,,          .     .  .  .  ,  broncos 

horse  for  missionary  journeyings,  and  so  he  is. 

He  is  an  ugly,  ill-tempered,  vicious,  cross- 
grained,  undersized,  half-starved,  flea-bitten, 
abandoned  little  beast,  and  he  gives  the  mis- 
sionary abundant  opportunity  to  practise  the 
sublime  virtue  of  self-restraint.  As  a  horrible 
example  of  total  depravity  he  beats  anything 
that  I  know  of.  He  is  apt  to  do  anything,  ex- 
cept a  good  thing,  at  any  moment.  When  he 
appears  most  serenely  unconscious  look  out 
for  him,  for  that  is  the  hour  in  which  he  medi- 
tates some  diabolical  action ! 

He  bucks  when  he  is  ridden  and  balks 
when  he  is  driven,  but  once  get  him  going 
and  he  shows  his  mettle.  He  can  go,  and  go 
like  the  wind,  and  go  all  day,  and  live  on  one 
blade  of  grass  and  one  drop  of  dew,  and  keep 
awake  all  night,— and  keep  you  awake,  too,— 
and  go  again  all  next  day,  and  keep  it  up 
until  he  tires  out  everything  and  everybody 
in  competition  with  him  j  for  when  you  get 
59 


RecoLLections  of  a 


How  they 
started  him 


One  buck 


him  started,  you  can  absolutely  depend  upon 
him.  He  never  gets  sick  nor  breaks  down, 
and  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  dies.  But  it 
is  awfully  hard  getting  him  started  some- 
times. 

I  knew  a  missionary  party  that  had  a  pair 
of  broncos,  one  of  which  could  be  started  only 
in  one  way.  The  other,  of  course,  was  in  sym- 
pathy with  and  regulated  his  movements  by 
his  companion.  Two  disinterested  people 
who  were  not  going  with  the  party  would 
pass  the  bight  of  a  stout  rope  around  the  hind 
fetlocks  of  the  recalcitrant  animal,  and  each 
take  one  end  and  saw  away  until  you  could 
almost  smell  the  burning  hair,  when,  without 
one  word  of  warning,  the  beasts  would  bolt, 
and  from  that  time  would  go  all  day  cheer- 
fully, at  the  liveliest  kind  of  a  trot,  provided 
they  were  not  halted  for  anything.  If  they 
were  stopped  the  same  process  would  have  to 
be  gone  over  with  again. 

Moral  suasion  was  entirely  lost  on  those 
horses,  yet  you  could  not  help  liking  them  $ 
they  were  so  mean  they  were  actually  charm- 
ing !  I  never  shall  forget  the  first  time  that 

60 


in  tge  Great  West 


ever  I  threw  my  leg  across  the  back  of  one  of 
these  animals.  He  bucked  just  one  buck.  I 
did  not  stay  with  him  more  than  a  second,  but 
the  impression  he  made  in  that  second  was  a 
lasting  one.  I  can  feel  it  yet. 

Coal-  oil    Johnny   and   his    broncos    remind     Making-  up 

.,      .T,  .  ,,       the  amount 

me  of  my  first  service  in  the  Territory.     All 

that  I  asked  of  the  people  who  came  to  the 
services,  including  a  large  number  of  cow- 
boys, was  that  they  should  pay  my  travelling 
expenses,  my  support  being  provided  else- 
where. After  the  services  I  noted  that  the 
offering  amounted  to  less  than  one  dollar, 
which  was  not  nearly  enough. 

I  stepped  out  among  the  congregation  and 
told  them  the  facts,  and  stated  that  I  had 
heard  of  the  proverbial  generosity  of  the  cow- 
boys, and  in  other  places  experienced  it,  but 
that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  a  quality  of  the  men 
before  me.  There  was  a  pause  for  a  moment, 
and  the  nearest  man  walked  up  and  put  a 
dollar  in  the  collection-basket.  His  example 
was  followed  by  others  until  there  were  a 
number  of  silver  dollars  there,  and  I  never 
61 


KecoUections  of  a 

had  occasion  to  speak  on  the  subject  in  that 
town  again. 

A  man  and         I  am  very  fond  of  the  genuine  cow-bov, 
a  hero 

now   fast    disappearing.    I   ?ve   ridden   and 

hunted  with  him,  eaten  and  laughed  with 
him,  camped  and  slept  with  him,  wrestled 
and  prayed  with  him,  and  I  always  found  him 
a  rather  good  sort,  fair,  honorable,  generous, 
kindly,  loyal  to  his  friends,  his  own  worst 
enemy.  The  impression  he  makes  on  civili- 
zation when  he  rides  through  a  town  in  a 
drunken  revel,  shooting  miscellaneously  at 
everything,  is  a  deservedly  bad  one,  I  grant 
you  5  but  you  should  see  him  on  the  prairie 
in  a  round-up  or  before  a  stampede.  There 
he  is  a  man  and  a  hero ! 

What  he  Speaking  of  collections,  a  man  came  up  to 
me  one  day  after  service,  and  was  pleased  to 
address  me  in  this  manner : 

"Say,  parson,  that  there  service  and  sermon 
was  grand.  I  would  n't  have  missed  'em  for 
five  dollars ! " 

When  I  suggested  that  he  hand  me  the 
difference  between  the  amount  he  had  put  in 

62 


Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

the  collection  and  the  figure  he  mentioned, 
for  my  missionary  work,  he  stopped  suddenly, 
looked  at  me  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  and 
then  slowly  pulled  from  his  pocket  four  dol- 
lars and  ninety  cents,  which  he  handed  to  me 
without  a  word ! 

He,  like  many  others,  resembled  that  old 
woman  who  said  she  had  been  a  Christian  for 
fifty  years,  and  she  thanked  God  it  had  never 
cost  her  a  cent ! 

I  used  to  have  other  weddings  from  time  to      Seeing  his 
time,  and  on  one  occasion  I  had  two  in  the     A  raise  and 
same  town  on  the  same  day,  one  in  the  morn- 
ing,  one  in  the  afternoon.     The  first  wedding 
fee  I  received  was  ten  dollars,  a  very  large 
remuneration  for  the  place  and  people.     After 
the  second  wedding,  the  best  man  called  me 
into  a  private  room  and  thus  addressed  me  : 

"What  >s  the  tax,  parson?" 

"Anything  you  like,  or  nothing  at  all,"  I 
answered.  (I  have  frequently  received 
nothing.) 

"Now,"  said  he,  "we  want  to  do  this  thing 
up  in  style,  but  I  have  had  no  experience  in 
63 


Recollections  of  a 

this  business  and  do  not  know  what  is  proper. 
You  name  your  figure." 

I  suggested  that  the  legal  charge  was  two 
dollars. 

"Pshaw!"  he  said,  "this  ain't  legal.  We 
want  to  do  something  handsome." 

"Go  ahead  and  do  it,"  I  said  ;  whereupon  he 
reflected  a  moment,  and  then  asked  me  how 
much  I  had  received  for  the  wedding  of  the 
morning. 

"Ten  dollars,"  I  replied. 

His  face  brightened  at  once.  Here  was  a 
solution  to  the  difficulty. 

"I  '11  see  his  ante,"  he  remarked;  "Raise 
him  five  dollars  and  call."  Whereupon  he 
handed  me  fifteen  dollars. 

It  never  The  first  wedding  I  ever  had  was  the  mar- 
riage of  a  cable-car  gripman  and  a  little  dress- 
maker. The  man  disconcerted  me  greatly  by 
repeatedly  urging  me  before  and  during  the 
ceremony  to  hurry  up,  as  he  only  had  a  lay- 
off for  one  trip.  When  I  finished  he  said  he 
would  see  me  next  week— but  that  next  week 
has  never  come  around. 

64 


(Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

The  churches  in  the  West  suffer  greatly  Hard  luck 
from  cyclones,  properly  called  tornadoes, 
though  I  shall  use  the  popular  name.  During 
the  four  years  in  which  I  was  connected  with 
one  diocese  as  its  archdeacon  we  lost  one 
church  every  year  from  that  cause.  The 
dwelling-houses  and  other  buildings  of  a  great 
many  of  our  adherents  were  wrecked,  and  in 
several  instances  some  of  them  lost  their  lives. 
One  Sunday  I  was  called  upon  to  preach  a 
memorial  sermon  for  a  young  woman  who  had 
been  killed  in  one  of  these  cyclones. 

She  was  a  schoolmistress  and  was  boarding 
around.  With  something  like  a  dozen  people, 
I  forget  the  exact  number,  she  was  caught  in 
a  large  house,  which  stood  on  the  edge  of  a 
high  bluff,  by  a  tremendous  cyclone.  The 
house  was  completely  wrecked,  and  every  in- 
mate of  it  except  one  was  killed  immediately 
or  died  within  an  hour  or  so.  The  one  who 
survived,  though  badly  injured,  said  that  the 
family  were  at  supper  when  the  storm  struck 
the  house ;  that  the  little  schoolmistress  hap- 
pened to  sit  next  the  omnipresent  baby  at  the 
table  in  its  high  chair. 
65 


Recottections  of  a 

The  heroine  When  they  found  the  poor  girl  that  night, 
she  was  still  alive,  though  unconscious,  and  she 
died  almost  instantly.  The  awful  force  of  the 
wind  had  torn  from  her  person  everything  she 
had  on,  including  two  rings,  except  one  shoe. 
Her  hair  was  actually  whipped  to  rags. 
She  had  been  driven  through  several  barbed- 
wire  fences,  and  every  bone  in  her  body  was 
broken.  In  her  arms,  however,  and  clasped 
tightly  to  her  breast,  was  the  dead  body  of 
that  little  infant ;  womanlike,  she  had  seized 
the  child  when  she  felt  the  shock  of  the  storm, 
and  not  even  the  tornado  itself  had  been 
strong  enough  to  tear  the  baby  from  her  arms. 
It  was  a  splendid  example  of  that  altruistic 
instinct  of  womanhood  upon  which  religion 
and  society  depend. 

Dead  on  the  field  of  honor,  little  mistress  of 
a  larger  school !  Blessed  is  her  name  among 
those  who  knew  her;  and  this  will  give  a 
wider  circulation  to  this  story  of  every-day 
heroism. 

Ail  the  other  churches  closed  their  doors 
on  this  occasion  and  united  with  us  in  doing 
honor  to  this  heroic  girl. 

66 


in  tfje  Great  West 


The  first  visit  the  bishop  of  that  missionary 
jurisdiction  made  in  that  town,  he  had  to 
bury,  I  think,  nineteen  victims  of  that  cyclone. 

One  of  the  churches  we  lost  had  just  been      Freaks  of 

the  wind 
completed  a  second  time  after  having  been 

partially  destroyed  previously  by  fire.  About 
fifteen  feet  away  from  the  church  was  a  little 
ramshackle  three-roomed  house  of  the  flimsi- 
est construction  which  was  used  for  the  rectory 
—save  the  mark  !  Between  the  two  stood  a 
large  maple-tree,  certainly  a  foot  in  diameter. 
That  cyclone  tore  the  church  building  to 
pieces.  There  was  not  a  single  piece  of  timber 
left  standing,  and  even  the  stones  of  the  foun- 
dation-wall were  scattered  all  over  the  adjoin- 
ing country.  That  tree  next  to  the  church 
was  twisted  off  about  six  feet  from  the  ground, 
and  the  whole  top  disappeared,  we  knew  not 
where  ;  the  end  that  stood  in  the  air  was 
shivered  like  a  paint-brush.  And  the  little 
rickety  house,  not  ten  feet  from  the  tree,  and 
which  a  strong  man  might  almost  have  top- 
pled over,  was  not  injured  in  the  slightest 
degree  ! 
67 


liecotl ections  of  a 

Pluck  and     Oh,  but   the   people   of  that  mission   were 
persistence      plucky  ,    They  had  lost  the  first  cliurcll  by 

fire,  the  second  by  cyclone,  and  the  wind  had 
hardly  died  down  before  they  commenced  to 
lay  plans  and  raise  money— that  was  the  first 
thing,  of  course— to  build  again.  All  the  com- 
municants were  women.  There  were  one  or 
two  men  who  helped  a  little,  but  the  bulk  of 
the  work  was  done  by  the  women. 

Their  religious  services  had  been  carried  on 
by  a  lay  reader,  quite  the  most  inefficient  one 
I  ever  saw,  who  was  a  candidate  for  orders. 
He  had  been  transferred  to  us  from  another 
diocese  farther  east,  and  we  had  but  little  op- 
portunity to  try  his  mettle.  We  got  all  sorts 
of  queer  things  unloaded  upon  us  from  the 
East,  including  clergymen.  Bishop  Williams 
is  reported  as  having  looked  back  with  great 
satisfaction  on  the  number  of  men  he  kept  out 
of  the  ministry— on  account  of  their  manifest 
unfitness,  of  course.  We  used  to  think  that 
many  of  those  he  did  not  keep  out  came  out 
West.  The  regular  clergy  and  missionaries 
were  as  noble  and  able  and  devoted  a  body  of 
men  as  any  with  whom  I  ever  came  in  contact, 

68 


in  tge  Great  West 


but  deliver  me  from  those  who  came  West  be- 
cause they  failed  East.  That  kindly  bishops 
sometimes  palmed  them  off  on  their  poorer 
"Western  brethren  did  not  help  matters  at  all. 

This  particular  lay  reader  came  up  for  A  poser 
examination  shortly  after  the  cyclone,  and 
his  ignorance  was  painful  and  pitiable.  The 
chief  examiner  of  that  diocese,  a  venerable 
and  learned  old  priest,  asked  him  as  the  first 
question  : 

"Where  was  our  Saviour  born?" 

A  look  of  deep  anxiety  spread  over  the  face 
of  the  young  man,  who  groped  around  in  his 
mind  in  painful  silence,  and  finally  said  hesi- 
tatingly: "Well,  I  do  not  believe  I  know 
where  he  was  born.  I  think  maybe  it  was  in 
Jerusalem  !  " 

"That  will  do,  sir,"  said  the  chief  examiner, 
sadly  but  firmly.  "I  will  not  continue  the 
examination  any  further." 

The  entire  unfitness  of  the  young  man  was  Success 
made  manifest  by  other  circumstances  as  well. 
Their  experience  with  him,  the  people  said, 
had  been  worse  than  with  the  cyclone.  When 
he  was  dropped,  they  were  put  on  my  list  by 
69 


RecolLections  of  a 

the  bishop  for  occasional  services  until  I  could 
get  them  a  clergyman.  They  fitted  up  the 
little  rectory  as  a  chapel,  and  began  to  raise 
funds  for  a  new  church  building.  When  they 
were  in  a  fair  way  of  completing  the  desired 
sum,  the  city  chose  to  pave  the  streets  around 
the  church,  which  took  all  they  had  in  the 
bank.  Nothing  daunted,  however,  they  still 
persisted,  and  now  they  have  a  very  pretty 
little  church,  a  resident  clergyman,  regular 
services,  and  as  many  men  communicants  as 
women.  I  do  not  know  of  anything  pluckier 
than  their  long  fight.  They  have  learned 
something,  too,  and,  in  addition  to  a  fire  they 
carry  a  cyclone  insurance. 

The  vagaries    I  have  known  cyclones  to  play  some  strange 
of  the  tornado  _ 

pranks.     On  one  occasion  two  horses  were 

lifted  up  in  the  air  and  carefully  deposited 
unharmed  in  a  walled  field  about  an  eighth  of 
a  mile  away.  I  saw  them  there.  I  have  seen 
chickens  and  geese  with  every  feather  torn 
off  of  them,  picked  clean,  and  still  feebly 
alive.  One  house  I  remember  had  a  hole 
about  ten  feet  in  diameter  cut  out  of  its  roof  as 

70 


Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

if  by  a  circular  saw,  evidently  by  the  very  tip- 
end  of  the  funnel.  It  was  otherwise  un- 
touched. 

I  have  seen  the  black  whirling  cloud  sweep- 
ing through  a  valley  at  a  terrific  rate,  its  fell 
progress  marked  by  the  destruction  it  caused, 
as  it  actually  leaped  and  bounded  through  the 
air.  I  saw  that  one  pick  up  an  out-building 
and  apparently  lift  it  up  and  shake  it  to 
pieces  as  one  shakes  a  pepper-box. 

One  of  the  worst  ones  I  ever  knew  tossed 
a  heavy  iron  safe  about  as  a  child  might 
a  wooden  alphabet-block  in  play.  I  have 
known  of  a  house  wrecked  and  all  of  its  in- 
mates killed,  and  other  instances  where  no 
one  was  hurt,  although  the  building  was  liter- 
ally blown  away  from  them.  When  buildings 
were  completely  torn  to  pieces  they  frequently 
presented  the  appearance  of  having  been 
wrecked  by  some  inside  explosion,  especially 
if  they  had  been  shut  up  when  the  storm 
broke. 

Of  all  the  manifestations  of  power  that  I    "^m  light- 

ning  ana  tevn- 

ever  witnessed.— and  I  happen  to  have  seen    pest,  ...good 

Lord,  deliver 
almost  everything,  from  an  earthquake  down,    us  " 

71 


3  lyiissionarY  in  tfje  Great  West 

except  a  volcano  in  eruption, — a  cyclone,  or 
tornado,  is  the  most  appalling.  The  midnight 
blackness  of  the  funnel,  the  lightning  dart- 
ing from  it  in  inconceivable  fierceness,  the 
strange  crackling  sound  which  permeates  it 
the  suddenness  of  its  irresistible  attack,  its  in- 
credibly swift  motion,  its  wild  leaping  and 
bounding  like  a  gigantic  ravening  beast  of 
prey,  the  destruction  of  its  progress,  the  awful 
roar  which  follows  it,  the  human  lives  taken 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  wreck  of  prop- 
erty and  fortune  in  its  trail— may  God  deliver 
us  from  that  mighty  besom  of  wrath  and  de- 
struction ! 


72 


CHAPTEE  V 

fTTHE  physical  weakling  has  no  place  in  the    No  place  for 
JL    missionary  work  in  the  West.     The  dis-  l  mss 

tances  to  be  covered  are  so  great,  the  number 
of  places  necessarily  allotted  to  one  man  so 
many,  the  means  of  transportation  so  varied 
and  unpleasant,  the  demands  upon  strength 
and  bodily  vigor  so  overwhelming,  that  it  is 
no  easy  matter  for  the  strongest  to  live  up  to 
the  requirements. 

I  had  just  been  holding  a  parochial  mission 
—what  most  people  would  call  a  revival, 
though  with  many  of  the  distinguishing  fea- 
tures of  a  revival  omitted— in  a  certain  little 
town.  There  had  been  three  or  four  services 
a  day  for  a  week,  with  a  crowded  church  every 
night.  Naturally  the  work  was  exhausting. 
At  the  end  of  the  week  I  was  tired,  but  im- 
perious necessity  compelled  me  to  undertake 
the  following  journey.  At  the  close  of  the 
mission  at  half  after  nine  o'clock  on  Sunday 
73 


•Recollections  of  a 

night,  on  the  1st  of  January,  the  weather 
being  clear  and  intensely  cold,  I  drove,  in  , 
company  with  another  man,  twenty-two  miles 
to  catch  a  train  on  the  Memphis  road. 

Burglarizing       We  arrived  at  the  little  way-station  at  half- 
the  station 

past  one  in  the  morning.     It  was  shut  up  and 

deserted,  and  the  town  was  a  mile  away.  We 
first  blanketed  our  shivering  horses,  and  then 
set  about  making  ourselves  comfortable.  We 
broke  into  the  station  through  the  window, 
smashed  up  a  packing-box,  carried  lumps  of 
coal  with  our  hands  from  a  coal-car  outside, 
drenched  the  whole  with  oil  from  the  lamp, 
and  with  great  difficulty  made  a  fire  in 
the  stove.  After  partaking  of  our  frugal 
lunch,  my  companion  started  on  his  return 
trip,  leaving  me  alone  in  the  station  for  a  long 
time.  When  the  train,  which  was  two  hours 
late,  came  along,  I  hunted  up  a  lantern  and 
flagged  it. 

When  I  entered  the  coach  I  saw  that  the 
Baker  heater  was  in  the  wrong  end  of  it 
and  the  car  was  like  an  ice-house.  There 
were  several  women  and  children  whom  the 
male  passengers  had  made  comfortable  with 

74 


In  tge  Great  West 


their  overcoats,  who  were  crowded  up  close 
to  the  heater  in  the  rear  end.  The  men 
kept  themselves  alive  by  walking  up  and 
down  the  aisle  in  a  long  line.  I  joined  the 
procession. 

We  reached  Kansas  City  very  late.  I  had  Peanuts  for 
only  time  to  connect  with  another  train  ;  had 
no  breakfast  except  peanuts.  I  have  made  a 
meal  of  peanuts  bought  from  the  train-boy 
many  and  many  a  time  in  my  experiences, 
and  have  been  thankful  to  get  them.  I 
reached  my  destination  about  one  o'clock  ;  had 
services,  with  sermon  and  a  meeting  of  the 
Women's  Guild,  in  the  afternoon  ;  services  and 
sermon  again,  with  baptism  and  a  public  re- 
ception, at  night.  I  retired  at  11  :  30  P.M.  and 
arose  at  2  :  30  in  the  morning  'to  take  another 
train,  which  I  never  left  until  six  o'clock 
the  next  evening.  After  services,  a  sermon, 
and  a  baptism  that  night,  I  was  thoroughly 
done  up. 

Here  is  the   record    of  two    weeks,   by   no      what  was 
means  unique,  taken  from  my  journal  ;  and  be    re(lmred  °fus 
it  noted  that  at  every  place  where  we  had 

75 


ItecotCections  of  a 

services  there  was,  of  course,  a  sermon  and  an 
address : 


Friday.     Service  at  M in  evening. 

Saturday.  Left  M at  3 : 30  A.M. 

Beached  P at  6  P.M.  Service. 

Sunday.  Left  P at  1  A.M.  Reached 

C at  2  : 30  A.M.  Services  at  7,  9,  and  10 

A.M.  Left  C at  11 : 50  A.M.  Beached 

A at  6  P.M.  Services  at  night  and  next 

morning. 

Monday.  Beached  C at  3  P.M.  Ser- 
vices afternoon  and  evening. 

Tuesday.  Drove  to  M .  Services  at 

night. 

Wednesday.  Left  for  L at  6  A.M. 

Services  at  10  : 30  A.M.,  3  : 30  and  7  : 30  P.M. 
Left  L 11  P.M. 

Sleeping  on        Thursday.     Beached  the  station  at  4  A.M. 
the  platform 

after  driving  thirty-two  miles.      Lay  down 

on  the  platform  and  went  to  sleep  until  the 
arrival  of  the  way  freight,  5  : 30  A.M.  (N.B. 
This  was  a  common  practice  in  summer.  I 
have  had  many  sound  sleeps  on  station  plat- 
forms, with  a  valise  for  a  pillow  and  the  open 

76 


^Missionary  in  tf)e  Great  West 

sky    for    a    cover.)     On    freight    all    day. 

Beached  W at  7  : 30  P.M.    Services  in  the 

evening  and  next  morning. 

Friday.  Kode  ten  miles  to  catch  express. 
Arrived  at  C at  6  P.M.  Services  and  wed- 
ding rehearsal  that  night. 

Saturday.  Services  at  7  A.M.  Baptismal 
service  at  8 : 45.  Services  at  9  A.M.  Rode 
five  miles  into  Indian  Territory  to  baptize 
and  admit  to  the  communion  a  dying  man. 
Baptized  his  wife  and  children.  Rode  back 
to  church,  solemnized  a  marriage.  Took  train 
for  S at  2  P.M.  Services  at  8  P.M. 

Sunday.     Services  at  7,  9,  10,  and  11  A.M. 

Left    at   1    P.M.   for    W .      Services    at 

night. 

Monday.  Drove  twelve  miles  for  country 
service.  All-night  ride  to  L . 

Tuesday.     Convocation  at  L . 

Wednesday.  Eeached  H .  Two  wed- 
dings in  afternoon,  services  at  night. 

Thursday.     Met  the  bishop  in  the  after-1 

noon.       Drove     fifteen     miles     to     R . 

Services. 

Friday.     Services  at  M . 

77 


Nearly  four 
times  round 
the  world 


What  is  an 
archdeacon  ? 


RecoCCections  of  a 

Saturday.  Services  afternoon  and  evening 
atW . 

Sunday.  Services  at  8,  10,  and  11  A.M.  at 
M. again.  Drove  twelve  miles  for  after- 
noon service  at  W .  Returned  in  time 

for  services  at  M at  7  : 30  P.M. 

Monday.     I  rested. 

There  are  dozens  of  missionaries  and  clergy- 
men out  West  who  would  regard  a  trip  like 
that  as  nothing  at  all.  I  did  not  mind  it 
much  myself. 

In  three  years,  by  actual  count,  I  travelled 
over  ninety-one  thousand  miles,  by  railroad, 
wagon,  and  on  horseback,  preaching  or  deliv- 
ering addresses  upward  of  eleven  hundred 
times,  besides  writing  letters,  papers,  making 
calls,  marrying,  baptizing,  and  doing  all  the 
other  endless  work  of  an  itinerant  missionary. 
And  that  reminds  me  of  the  question  so 
often  asked,  What  is  an  archdeacon?  He  is  a 
man  who  helps  the  bishop  do  just  the  sort  of 
things  I  have  described.  Most  people  are 
familiar  with  the  answer  of  the  English 
bishop  who  was  requested  by  Parliament  to 

78 


in  tfie  Great  West 


define  the  duties  and  work  of  an  archdeacon, 
whereupon  he  sapiently  replied  that  the 
principal  work  of  an  archdeacon  was  to  per- 
form archidiaconal  functions.  A  friend  of 
mine  put  it  rather  cleverly  this  way  : 

"Considering  a  deacon  as  a  minister  or 
server,  an  archdeacon  bears  the  same  relation 
to  a  deacon  as  an  archfiend  does  to  a  fiend  — 
he  is  the  same  thing,  only  more  so." 

It  was  difficult  for  the  people  in  the  little    The 
towns  to  get  the  title  straight,  and  I  was  usu-  s  °p 

ally  advertised  as  the  archbishop.  On  one 
occasion,  when  inquiry  was  made  by  some  one 
as  to  what  an  archbishop  was,  this  reply  was 
given  :  "Why,  an  archbishop  is  a  kind  of  a  boss 
of  the  bishop."  The  bishop  and  the  clergy  • 
got  hold  of  this  story,  and  they  called  me  "the 
boss  "  until  I  felt  like  a  politician. 

The   official   title   of  an   archdeacon  is   the    Only  officially 

Venerable.     People  who  did  not  know  me 

would  learn  that  much,  and  make  careful  prep- 

aration for  the  reception  of  an  old  decrepit 

man—  warm  beds,  bright  fires,  easy-chairs,  etc. 

79 


Recoil ectlons  of  a 

When  I  appeared  they  would  look  upon  me 
as  a  fraud  because  I  was  only  venerable  offi- 
cially. I  enjoyed  the  comforts  just  the  same. 
Such  a  reception  was  better  than  being 
ushered  into  a  stone-cold  "best  room/7  and  left 
with  the  cheerful  remark  that  no  one  had 
slept  in  the  room  since  "grandmother  died." 
As  I  crept  into  bed  I  did  not  wonder  the  poor 
old  lady  had  expired.  I  felt  like  it  myself. 

"Luban'  Speaking  of  missions  a  moment  since  re- 
minds me  of  an  appreciative  remark  with 
which  I  was  greeted  by  a  nice  old  colored  sis- 
ter at  the  close  of  one  of  my  missions,  which 
had  been  held  in  this  instance  in  a  colored 
church.  This  turbaned,  aged  woman  at  the 
close  of  the  services  grasped  me  by  the  hand 
and  said,  "Gord  bress  yer  fer  yer  lub,  bruder, 
an'  oh,  Gord  bress  yer  fer  yer  brains  ! " 

'Doan  drop  I  always  valued  that  saying  very  highly ; 
and  that  reminds  me  of  another  old  colored 
woman  of  my  acquaintance,  who  belonged  to 
the  Methodist  Church,  though  she  was  the 
sexton  of  our  church.  The  Methodists  were 

80 


Missionary  in  tge  Great  West; 

having  a  revival,  during  which  this  old  woman 
felt  called  upon  to  make  a  prayer.  She  com- 
menced with  the  stern  spirit  of  an  ancient 
Puritan,  and  closed  with  the  tenderness  of  an 
old  Southern  mammy :  "Oh,  Lawd,  tek  de 

sinnahs  ob  C an7  shek  7em  obah  de  fiahs 

ob  hell— but  please,  Lawd,  doan  drap  7em." 

I  used  to  meet  many  interesting  characters  The  brake- 
upon  the  trains.  Once  when  I  was  taking  a 
little  relation  to  visit  his  grandmother,  we 
came  back  from  the  dining-car  to  our  seats  in 
the  coach  on  the  B.  &  M.  road,  late  in  the 
evening,  and  found  the  brakeman  sitting  in 
one  of  them,  with  a  little  story  I  had  been 
reading— "Sunset  Pass,"  by  Captain  King— in 
his  hand. 

He  immediately  arose  and  handed  me  the 
book. 

"No,"  I  said  5  "sit  still  and  read  a  little,  if 
you  wish  to." 

"No,  sir,"  he  replied,  resuming  his  seat ;  "I 
never  read  any  more  novels  while  I  am  on 
duty,  because  of  something  that  happened  to 
me  once." 
81 


RecoU ectlons  of  a 

"Oh!"  said  I,  scenting  a  story,  "how  was 
that?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  was  readin'  a  story  one  day— 
?t  was  a  blamed  good  story,  too ;  name  of  it 
was  '  White  Cloud'  or  <Ked  Cloud.'  This 
next  station  always  reminds  me  of  the  name." 
(We  were  nearing  White  Cloud  station.) 
"Seems  to  me  that  Cap'n  Mayne  Reid  wrote 
it.  Anyhow,  I  was  brakin'  on  a  freight  on 
the  Wabash— rear-end  brakeman.  We  ran 
off  the  main  line  onto  a  sidin'  to  wait  for  the 
fast  express  to  pass  by  us.  It  was  a  lonesome 
little  place,  an7  I  was  sent  back  to  throw  the 
switch  for  the  express-train.  She  was  late, 
an'  I  walked  along  to  the  switch,  readin'  as  I 
went,  an'— would  you  believe  it,  parson? —I 
never  throwed  that  dog-gone  switch  at  all ; 
just  set  down  on  the  bank  under  a  tree  an' 
read  away.  All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  express,  an'  here  she  was,  a-com- 
in'  around  the  bend  like— like— well,  she  was 
makin'  forty  miles  an  hour  maybe  ;  an'  at  that 
minute  I  seen  the  target  of  the  switch  was 
pointin'  straight  at  me,  an'  I  knew  that  switch 
was  n't  throwed,  an'  in  a  minute  she  'd  be 

82 


in  tge  Great  West 


crashin'  into  that  freight,  an'  there  'd  be 
trouble  !  Gosh,  parson  !  I  tell  you  I  dropped 
that  fool  novel  an'  put  for  that  switch  ;  an'  I 
got  it,  too.  But  I  had  n't  no  more  than 
throwed  it  over  than  the  front  wheels  of  that 
there  engine  passed  over  it.  'T  was  a  mighty 
close  call." 

"Well,  what  did  you  do  with  the  book? 
Did  you  ever  finish  the  story  ?  "  I  asked. 

"No  ;  I  just  set  there  on  the  bank  tremblin' 
till  the  conductor  called  me  into  the  caboose. 
An'  I  never  picked  up  the  book  again  ;  just 
left  it  there  by  the  road.  Never  finished  the 
story,  either." 

Just  then  the  train  rushed  around  a  bend    Standards  of 

JLI  '   T  ,      ,.  11      -m«-.          wickedness 

in  the  track,  and  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Mis- 

souri Eiver,  looking  stealthy  and  treacherous 
enough,  with  its  white  sand-bars  showing 
grim  and  ghastly  under  the  night  mist,  which 
a  faint  moonlight  seemed  to  render  more  eerie 
than  ever.  The  boy  clapped  his  little  hands 
together  and  exclaimed  : 

"Oh,  uncle,  the  river  !  See  the  moon  shining 
on  those  things  in  the  water.  What  are  they  !  " 
83 


Recollections  of  a 

"Those  are  sand-bars,"  I  replied.  "And 
that  is  a  very  miserable  sort  of  a  river,  any- 
way, my  boy." 

"Yes,"  said  the  brakeman.  "I  heard  a  man 
say  t'  other  day  that  there  was  just  two 
things  God  A'mighty  did  n't  take  no  notice 
of.  They  were  too  wicked  for  him.  One  was 

City  and  the  other  the  Missouri  Eiver. 

One  touch  "Say,  little  feller,"  taking  the  little  lad  in 
his  arms  and  lifting  him  on  his  lap,  "come 
here  to  me  an'  lemme  look  at  you.  D'  ye 
know,  I  had  a  little  girl  like  you  once ;  same 
kind  of  eyes,  and  yeller  hair,  only  't  was 
curly— an'  fair  complexion,  too,  just  like  him, 
preacher." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  asked  the  boy,  look- 
ing interestedly  at  his  new  friend. 

"She  's  dead,  my  boy.  Gosh  !  it  'most  killed 
me,  stranger.  She  took  sick  of  a  Tuesday,  an' 
died  a  Wednesday." 

"I  know  somebody  that 's  dead,"  remarked 
the  boy,  gravely. 

"Do  you,  little  feller  ?    Who  may  that  be  f  " 

"My  mama,"  he  replied. 

And  we  all  looked  at  each  other  in  silence, 

84 


in  tge  Great  West 


while  the  train  sped  on  swiftly  through  the 
moonlight  night.  "One  touch  of  nature  makes 
the  whole  world  kin."  Is  that  touch  a  com- 
munity of  sorrow,  I  wonder  f 

Speaking  of  little  boys  reminds  me  of  an-    An  Episcopal 

other  lad  about  whom  a  friend  of  mine  told 

me.    He  belonged  to  a  family  who  had  trained 

him  to  believe  in  the  deep-water  form  of  bap- 

tism.    Like  the  boy  who  tried  it  on  the  dog, 

he  was  experimenting  with  the  household  cat 

and  a  bucket  of  water.     The  animal  evidently 

did   not   believe   in  immersion,  for   she  re- 

sisted, bit,  scratched  and  clawed  and  used  bad 

language—  in    the     cat    tongue,   of    course. 

Finally  the  little  boy,  with  his  hands  covered 

with  scratches  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 

gave  up  the  effort  to  effect  the  regeneration 

of  the  cat. 

"Dog-gone  you  !"  he  cried,  —  notice  the  nice 
choice  of  epithets  in  the  use  of  the  word 
"dog,"—  "go  and  be  an  Episcopal  cat  if  you 
want  to  !  " 

The  way  the  women  worked  for  the  Church      Vi  et  amis 

out  West  was  a  marvel.     One  old  lady  who 

85 


'RecotCections  of  a 

supported  herself  meagrely  by  the  hardest 
kind  of  daily  labor  decided  to  raise  the 
money  for  the  west  window  of  a  little  chapel 
we  were  building,  and  also  to  purchase  an 
organ,  herself.  She  was  nearly  threescore 
years  old,  yet,  with  indomitable  spirit,  she 
went  from  house  to  house  and  from  farm  to 
farm,  walking  five  miles  sometimes  into  the 
country,  and  being  thankful  to  get  ten  cents 
for  the  purpose— ten  cents,  which  often  rep- 
resented a  large  sum  of  money  to  the  poor 
farmer. 

The  sturdy,  fearless  old  woman  asked  every- 
body. She  caught  one  wayfarer,  who  stepped 
off  the  train  to  get  a  breath  of  air  at  the  sta- 
tion, and  said  she  would  hold  him  by  the  lapel 
of  his  coat  until  he  gave  her  a  dime,  which  he 
promptly  did.  One  man  offered  her  a  nickel 
in  response  to  her  appeal,  but  she  said  it  was 
against  her  principles  to  put  down  less  than  a 
dime  upon  her  book,  and  if  he  could  only 
afford  to  give  her  a  nickel  she  would  add  five 
cents  from  her  own  funds  and  put  it  down  as 
a  dime  from  him,  whereupon  he  immediately 
gave  her  a  dollar.  She  succeeded  in  complet- 

86 


in  tfje  Great  West 


ing  both  her  undertakings  in  the  end;  and  her 
chief  happiness  thereafter  was  to  sit  under  the 
window  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the  organ. 

I  was  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  church,  An  old  gleaner 
feeling  rather  melancholy  about  our  slow 
progress,  one  day,  when  I  noticed  the  old 
woman  coming  around  the  corner  with  a  large 
sack  upon  her  shoulders.  She  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  picking  up  bits  of  wood  and  chips 
from  the  wayside,  staggering  along  under  her 
burden. 

"Good  gracious  !  "  said  I,  "what  on  earth 
are  you  doing  ?  " 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it  is  you,  Mr.  Brady? 
Well,  sir,  I  needed  some  kindling,  and  it  just 
occurred  to  me  if  I  could  take  my  sack  and 
go  around  those  new  buildings  and  gather  up 
enough  chips  to  equal  a  load  of  cobs,  why,  I 
could  take  the  dollar  and  fifty  cents,  the  cost 
of  the  cobs,  and  put  it  into  the  window  fund. 
Don't  you  think  that  >s  fair?" 

I  thought  it  was  very  fair. 


Speaking  of  music  reminds  me  of  the  diffi-     7**  man  wth 

the  versatile 
culty  we  often  had  in  getting  people  to  sing         voice 

87 


Recott ections  of  a 

in  the  services.  I  have  sung  dnets  myself 
with  the  organist  until  the  organist  got  tired 
and  quit— for  which  I  could  hardly  blame  her, 
under  the  circumstances.  And  that  reminds 
me  of  a  man  who  was  the  possessor  of  the 
most  versatile  voice  I  ever  had  the  pleasure 
of  listening  to,  and  his  courage  was  as  high  as 
his  voice  was  various.  We  were  supposed  to 
have  a  quartet  choir  in  that  mission,  but  if 
any  of  the  singers  happened  to  be  absent  it 
made  no  difference  in  the  music,  for  the  man 
with  the  comprehensive  voice  could  and  would 
sing  any  part.  I  have  actually  known  him  to 
sing  the  soprano  solo  of  the  anthem,  and  then 
immediately  after  sing  the  bass  solo,  carry  a 
few  bars  of  the  alto  part,  and  wind  up  with 
the  chorus,  all  by  himself !  7T  was  nobly  done, 
though  the  effect  was  startling,  and  the  music 
never  failed  when  he  was  there. 


A  good  word    I  spoke  of  the  faithful  work  of  the  women. 
for  the  men  Qf  laymen 


did  equally  good  services.  In  fact,  I  know 
one  church  in  which  everything  was  done  by 
the  men,  even  to  the  cutting  out  of  the  red 

88 


Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

hangings  of  the  chancel,  which  they  decorated 
with  crosses  cut  out  from  yellow  cloth,  which 
they  pasted,  or  fastened  with  tacks,  to  the 
other.  The  effect  was  good  enough,  though  it 
was  not  embroidery.  The  men  were  the 
dominant  factors  in  that  mission,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  best  in  the  diocese,  never  having  a 
bit  of  trouble  within  its  borders  until  the 
women  took  hold ! 

There  was  a  lay  reader  who  conducted  ser-  Stumbling  over 

..__.    .     n  .  the  Hebrews 

vices  in  another  mission.     He  had  been  a  stout 

old  soldier  in  his  day,  and  was  a  first-class 
man,  but  his  knowledge  of  Hebrew  was  lim- 
ited, and  his  pronunciation  of  unfamiliar 
Bible  names  was  a  thing  at  which  to  marvel. 
When  he  opened  the  Bible  on  one  occasion  to 
read  the  lesson,  he  could  not  find  the  place, 
which  was  in  one  of  the  minor  prophets, — 
great  stumbling-blocks  to  more  experienced 
men,  by  the  way,— and  after  turning  the 
pages  nervously  for  some  minutes  in  the 
face  of  a  tittering  congregation,  he  finally 
opened  the  book  at  random  and  began  to 
read.  As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  he  lighted  upon 
89 


g  ^Missionary  in  t/je  Great  West 

one  of  the  genealogical  chapters  in  Ezra— 
the  second.  He  struggled  along  through  half 
a  column  of  Hebrew  names,  and  finally  turned 
the  last  leaf  in  the  hope  that  there  would  be 
a  change  in  the  substance  of  the  chapter  on 
the  other  side.  What  he  saw  proved  too  much 
for  him,  for  after  one  frightened  glance  he 
closed  the  reading  in  this  way  : 

"And  a  page  and  a  half  more  of  the  same 
kind,  brethren.    Here  endeth  the  first  lesson." 


90 


o 


CHAPTEE  VI 


day  I  was  seated  in  the  station  at     "Held  up" 

-.*-    T    •        T     ->  -L-  T       by  Herbert 

Medicine  Lodge  awaiting  the  train.     I       Spencer 


was  reading  intently,  and  was  absorbed  in 
my  book,  but  I  noticed  a  cow-boy  walking 
about  the  room  eying  me,  evidently  desiring 
to  be  sociable.  He  finally  stopped  before  me, 
saying : 

"Good  mornin',  stranger ;  w'at  mought  you 
be  a-doin'  ?  " 

"I  am  reading,"  I  answered. 

"  Wat  are  you  readin*  ?  " 

"A  book  on  evolution." 

"Wat  's  evolution? "  he  asked  curiously. 

Herbert  Spencer's  famous  definition  was  on 
the  page  before  my  eyes,  and  without  a  sec- 
ond's hesitation  I  read  it  off  in  the  most 
rapid  manner : 

"Evolution  is  an  integration  of  matter  and 
concomitant  dissipation  of  motion,  during 
which  the  matter  passes  from  an  indefinite, 
91 


RecoCt ections  of  a 

incoherent  homogeneity  to  a  definite,  coherent 
heterogeneity,  during  which  the  retained  mo- 
tion undergoes  a  parallel  transformation." 

The  effect  was  startling. 

"My  God  ! "  he  cried.  And  then  he  stepped 
backward  in  his  tracks,  threw  up  his  hands, 
gazed  at  me  with  astonished  eyes,  and,  with 
jaws  dropping  in  amazement,  absolutely 
backed  out  of  the  room.  I  think  this  is  the 
only  instance  on  record  of  a  cow-boy  being 
"held  up  "  by  Herbert  Spencer. 

I  left  that  town  on  the  little  rickety  rail- 
road which  was  the  tenuous  link  connecting 
it  with  civilization,  just  as  a  violent  storm 
was  arising.  Before  the  train  reached  the 
junction  point  on  the  main  line,  a  way-station 
which  rejoiced  in  the  utterly  incongruous 
name  of  Attica,  a  fully  developed  sand-storm 
was  raging  through  the  country.  It  was  mid- 
winter, and  the  thermometer  dropped  sud- 
denly as  the  whirling  masses  of  dust  and  sand 
came  sweeping  down  from  the  north  over  the 
bare  prairie. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  adequately  the 

92 


"{Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

thickness  of  the  atmosphere.  No  object  could 
have  been  discerned  at  a  distance  exceeding 
the  width  of  an  ordinary  street,  on  account 
of  the  sand.  The  train  was  stalled  in  a  cut 
near  the  station  by  the  mass  of  sand,  which  filled 
the  excavation  almost  up  to  the  platforms  of 
the  cars,  and  the  engine  "died."  To  face  the 
swirling  mass  for  any  length  of  time  was  to 
have  one's  face  cut  to  pieces.  It  was  impossi- 
ble to  force  an  engine  through  the  sand,  and 
even  a  rotary  snow- plow  would  have  made  no 
impression  upon  it  whatever.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  abandon  the  train 
and  wait  for  the  abatement  of  the  storm  and 
then  dig  it  out  with  shovels. 

The  train-hands  and  the  few  passengers  They  called  it 
made  their  way  to  a  building,  called  by  cour- 
tesy a  hotel,  which  stood  near  the  station. 
The  sand-storm  died  away  in  the  course  of 
the  afternoon,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  bliz- 
zard, so  that  the  sand-heaps  were  covered  by 
deep  snow.  Wires  were  down  in  every  direc- 
tion and  trains  blockaded  all  over  the  State. 
The  winter  wheat  had  actually  been  blown 
out  of  the  ground  in  many  places.  It  was 
93 


RecotC actions  of  a 

deathly  cold.  The  landlord  of  the  hotel,  with 
his  wife  and  children,  occupied  one  room  with 
a  fire  in  it ;  another  was  given  to  the  women 
passengers  of  the  train ;  and  that  exhausted 
the  tale  of  the  rooms  which  were  heated. 
Ventilation  The  house  was  so  old  that  I  could  push 
mop-Lard  aside  the  mop-board  and  thrust  my  foot  out 
into  the  air  through  the  rotten  weather 
boarding  in  the  room  which  was  allotted  to 
me  for  sleeping.  There  were  no  blankets  on 
the  bed,  which  was  of  the  variety  known  as 
"shuck." 

I  lay  down  on  the  comfortable— singular 
misnomer  !— with  all  my  clothes  on,  including 
my  shoes,— it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  went  to 
bed  with  my  boots  on,— and  rolled  myself  up 
within  its  compass.  But  it  was  absolutely 
impossible  to  sleep,  the  cold  was  so  intense  ;  so 
a  little  after  midnight  I  arose,  went  down  to 
the  office,  and  kindled  a  fire.  I  was  joined 
presently  by  the  rest  of  the  men,  who  had  been 
similarly  accommodated. 

Out  of  it  alive  By  the  next  morning  the  storm  had  died 
away,  leaving  the  ground  covered  with  snow, 
though  the  intense  cold  still  continued. 

94 


in  tge  Great  West 


There  was  illness  in  my  family,  and  as  I  was 
unable  to  communicate  with  them  by  tele- 
graph, I  felt  my  presence  at  home  was  impera- 
tive. By  dint  of  much  persuasion  and  the 
expenditure  of  almost  all  the  money  I  had,  I 
succeeded  in  getting  two  horses  and  a  sleigh 
with  which  to  drive  to  the  town,  whence  I 
hoped  the  railroad  might  be  open.  I  was  to 
leave  the  horses  until  called  for.  I  reached 
the  town  all  right,  with  one  hand  and  part  of 
my  face  frost-bitten,  took  the  train,  made  an- 
other railroad  connection,  ran  into  a  drift, 
tried  it  again,  and  after  two  other  similar  ex- 
periences reached  my  destination  five  days 
late.  The  family  were  all  right  when  I  got 
there. 

Snow  blockades  were  frequent.     I  was  on    The  Overland 

Limited 
a  freight-train,  one  winter  morning,  which 

pulled  into  a  little  siding  to  allow  the  Over- 
land Limited  to  pass  and  proceed  on  its  way. 
There  was  a  bit  of  woodland  down  the  road, 
out  of  which  the  tracks  sprang  in  a  rather 
sharp  curve.  I  stepped  out  of  the  caboose 
and  stood  on  the  little  station  platform  to 
95 


RecoU ectlons  of  a 

watch  the  express-train  go  by.  I  always  do 
that;  I  like  to  see  it.  We  could  hear  the 
roar  of  it  a  long  distance  over  the  prairie, 
coming  nearer  and  nearer.  Suddenly,  like 
the  thunderbolt  itself,  it  darted  out  of  the 
screen  of  woodland,  whirled  around  the  curve, 
and,  rocking  like  a  storm,  made  for  the  station. 

It  passed  by  at  a  speed  of  more  than  fifty 
miles  an  hour— a  great  train  of  Pullman  cars 
drawn  by  a  splendid  engine.  It  split  the  air 
like  a  flash  of  lightning.  The  ground  fairly 
quivered  under  the  weight  of  it.  The  roar  in 
our  ears  was  appalling.  The  dust  swept  by 
us  as  if  from  a  cyclone.  The  eye  had  scarcely 
time  to  realize  its  approach  before  the  concus- 
sion of  its  passage  stopped  the  breath.  Almost 
before  the  roar  had  died  away  it  was  gone. 

Such  a  splendid  exhibition  of  applied  power 
and  science  I  have  not  often  seen.  As  I  stood 
there  recovering  my  composure,  a  little  drop 
of  snow  drifted  softly  down  and  rested  gently 
upon  my  cheek. 

And  its  master  "Ah,"  said  I,  as  I  felt  the  cold  touch,  look- 
ing after  the  train  in  vanishing  perspective 
already  far  away,  "this  is  that  which  masters 

96 


in  tge  Great  West 


you."  And  before  the  night  fell,  that  avalanche 
of  steel,  that  modern  embodiment  of  force  and 
power,  was  lying  quiet  and  helpless,  its  fires 
burnt  out,  its  life  gone,  in  the  grasp  of  mil- 
lions of  tiny  little  crystals  like  that  which 
had  just  caressed  my  cheek. 

It  was  quite  a  diversion,  when  blockaded  by  Opening  the 
snow,  to  get  on  the  rotary  plow  at  division 
headquarters  and  go  out  to  open  the  road—  to 
see  the  great  white  masses  of  snow  in  the  cuts 
looming  up  before  you  in  the  moonlight  ;  to 
push  into  it  with  the  full  strength  and  speed  of 
the  engine,  and  see  it  fly  ;  to  back  off  and  con- 
tinue the  process  until  the  way  was  clear. 

The  roads  ran  through  walls  of  corn  in  sum- 
mer and  through  walls  of  snow  in  winter.  I 
know  not  which  were  the  more  beautiful. 

Speaking  of  division  headquarters  reminds  A  bicycle  story 

me  that  one  day,  while  I  was  waiting  there  to 

make  a  connection,  a  young  man  came  into 

the  station  looking  utterly  broken  in  body 

and  spirit.     He  was  white,  nervous,  and  shak- 

ing, and  he  was  feebly  pulling  a  bicycle  after 

him.     I  happened  to  know  him,  for  he  was  a 

97 


RecoCtections  of  a 

member  of  one  of  my  mission  stations  up  the 
State. 

It  seems  that  he  had  taken  his  wheel  to 
make  a  journey  of  several  hundred  miles  to 
inspect  some  land  in  which  he  was  interested. 
In  the  course  of  his  journey  he  had  crossed  a 
very  large  prairie-field,  which  was  broken 
about  the  middle  by  a  high  and  unusual 
transverse  ridge.  When  he  had  climbed  the 
ridge  and  mounted  his  wheel  to  proceed,  he 
noticed  what  the  rise  of  ground  had  obscured 
from  him— that  the  field  was  filled  with  Texas 
cattle  grazing  in  little  bunches  of  from  ten  to 
fifty.  Just  as  he  started,  one  or  two  of  the 
"long-horns  "  caught  sight  of  him.  I  presume, 
as  it  was  years  ago,  the  steers  were  not  familiar 
with  the  machine  in  the  country  from  which 
they  came.  One  bunch  followed  its  leader 
over  to  investigate.  My  young  friend  natu- 
rally accelerated  his  pace,  whereupon  the  cat- 
tle took  after  him.  Presently  other  bunches 
caught  the  contagion  of  the  pursuit,  and  the 
cattle  on  that  field  indulged  in  a  grand  man- 
hunt. 

Fortunately  the  trail  across  it  was  straight 

98 


"(Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

and  level  and  led  directly  to  an  immense  gate.    Chased  by  the 

,    "long-horns" 
The   boy    bent   down   over   his  wheel   and 

pedalled  for  his  life.  He  could  hear  the  bel- 
lowing of  the  cattle  and  the  tramping  of  their 
feet  behind  him7  but  he  looked  neither  to  the 
right  nor  the  left.  He  had  no  idea  what  he 
should  do  when  he  reached  the  gate.  All  his 
mind  was  fixed  upon  one  necessity— to  keep 
ahead!  He  thinks  he  gained  a  little  upon 
them,  and,  as  Providence  would  have  it,  as  he 
neared  the  gate  he  saw  that  it  was  open.  The 
road  at  that  point  took  a  sudden  swerve,  ran 
along  parallel  to  the  side  of  the  enclosing 
wall,  and  then  crossed  the  stockade  through 
the  heavy  gate  at  a  very  acute  angle.  He 
dashed  through  the  opening  like  a  flash  of 
lightning,  lost  his  pedals  as  soon  as  he  got  out- 
side, darted  along  furiously  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, struck  a  rut  or  a  rock,  was  pitched  off, 
and  lay  senseless  on  the  ground. 

The  man  who  owned  the  range  opportunely 
happened  to  visit  it  at  that  moment.  He  had 
seen  the  boy  on  the  wheel,  had  opened  the 
gate  to  let  him  pass  through,  and,  with  one  or 
two  attendants,  had  ridden  in  and  headed  off 
99 


RecoCtections  of  a 

the  rushing  cattle,  else  tlie  lad  would  certainly 
have  been  killed. 


The  just  judge  One  of  the  men  in  one  of  my  missions  was  a 
judge  remarkable  not  only  for  his  ability,  but 
for  his  upright  and  rigid  impartiality.  A 
case  was  being  tried  before  him  in  which  the 
community  were  much  interested.  The  pris- 
oner was  very  unpopular  among  the  people, 
and  every  one  was  anxious  that  he  should  be 
convicted,  though  there  was  a  strong  doubt  of 
his  guilt.  At  the  close  of  the  trial,  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  ended  his  address  something 
like  this : 

"The  people  expect  a  conviction  in  this 
case,  and  they  demand  that  the  prisoner  be 
found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  the  extreme 
penalty  of  the  law.  They  will  be  satisfied 
with  nothing  else  at  the  hands  of  the  court 
and  the  jury." 

Whereupon  the  judge  remarked  gravely : 

"I  know  a  case  which  happened  long  ago 

in  an  Eastern  land,  gentlemen,  where  the 

voice  of  the  people  was  practically  unanimous 

in  demanding  the  execution  of  a  prisoner,  and 

100 


in  tfie  Great  West 


they  so  worked  on  the  feelings  of  the  judge 
that  he  sentenced  an  innocent  man!  " 

It  was,  of  course,  necessary  that  I  board  Entertained  by 
around,  on  my  visits  to  different  places.  The 
hospitality  of  the  people  was  always  gener- 
ously and  freely  given— too  generously  some- 
times, in  fact,  for  they  frequently  never  left 
me  a  moment  alone.  Sometimes,  after  spend- 
ing the  day  with  me,  my  hostess  would  excuse 
herself,  upon  the  plea  of  urgent  household  de- 
mands, and  say  something  to  this  effect : 

"But  we  won't  allow  you  to  get  lonesome. 
Here  's  little  Johnny"  (aged  three)  j  "he  will 
entertain  you."  Which  meant  that  I  was  to 
play  for  the  rest  of  the  day  with  "little 
Johnny."  I  used  to  long  for  a  chance  to  get 
"lonesome  "  some  time. 

In  one  other  particular  the  hospitality  was    Onthepreva- 

not  enjoyable,  and  that  was  when  the  piece  de 

resistance  of  the  menu  was  chicken.    It  seems 

to  me  that  I  have  had  chicken  three  times  a 

day  for  a  week  at  a  time.     This  statement  is 

probably  incorrect  as  to  facts,  but  it  serves  to 

101 


Recottections  of  a 

show  the  impression  left  upon  me  after  the 
years  that  have  intervened.  It  was  fre- 
quently presented  to  me  with  the  remark 
that  "preachers  always  liked  it,  especially 
the  yellow-legged  kind."  Yellow-legged 
chickens,  not  preachers,  be  it  understood.  If 
anything  could  make  chicken  unpalatable  to 
me  beyond  the  mere  fact  that  it  was  chicken, 
it  would  be  the  thought  of  the  "yellow-legged 
kind."  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  chicken 
scrambled,  fried,  soft-boiled,  and  in  every 
other  possible  shape. 

The  charge  of  Chicken  to  the  right  of  me,  chicken  to  the 
left  of  me?  chicken  before  me,  chicken  behind 
me !  Chicken,  chicken  everywhere,  and  not 
a  drop  to  drink  !— which  is  a  mixture  of  met- 
aphors, or  something;  but  let  it  pass,  as  it 
was  in  a  prohibition  State !  I  wondered 
sometimes  that  I  did  not  turn  into  a  chicken 
myself.  I  think  I  could  write  a  feeling  essay 
"On  the  Prevalence  of  Chicken  in  the  Diocese 

of  X ."  Once  in  a  while  fortune  was  kind  to 

me,  and  when  I  would  make  a  visit  to  a  new 
town  they  would  have  meat,  whereupon  I 
never  failed  elaborately  to  express  my  gratifi- 

102 


(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

cation  at  the  absence  of  chicken.  The  news 
would  soon  be  disseminated  among  the  people 
of  the  community,  and  chicken  would  be  con- 
spicuous by  its  absence  from  every  table  where 
I  was  a  guest  in  that  town.  But  if  I  struck 
chicken  on  my  first  visit  I  had  it  forever  after. 
When  it  was  not  chicken  it  was  usually  ham. 

I  remember  one  little  town  I  used  to  make     One  maid  of 

. ,  .       ,  ,       T     all  work  to  a 

in  which  a  rather  curious  thing  happened.     I          town 

was  entertained,  of  course,  at  a  different  house 
on  every  visit.  On  my  first  visit  I  remarked 
that  I  did  not  drink  coffee.  (Since  coming 
East  I  have  learned  to  do  so,  with  other  bad 
habits  I  have  acquired.)  On  my  second  visit 
my  hostess  remarked : 

"You  do  not  drink  coffee,  I  believe." 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  do  not." 

On  my  third  visit,  to  another  house,  the 
same  question  and  answer  passed.  I  was 
more  surprised,  but  said  nothing  until  the 
conversation  had  been  repeated  five  differ- 
ent times.  Then  I  ventured  to  ask  an  ex- 
planation. When  the  remark  was  made  I 
replied : 
103 


Recollections  of  a 

"No,  I  do  not;  but  may  I  ask  who  told 
you?" 

"Mrs.  Biggus,"  answered  my  hostess. 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Biggus?" 

"Well,"  said  the  lady,  waiting  until  the 
maid  left  the  room,  "she  is  the  only  woman 
whom  we  can  secure  for  domestic  service  in 
the  town.  Everybody  who  entertains  you 
has  had  her  at  the  same  time,  to  help  while 
you  were  there.  She  knows  what  you  like 
and  has  told  every  one." 

Mrs.  Biggus  and  I  met  frequently  after  that 
at  different  houses,  and  became  fast  friends. 
She  was  a  wise  old  woman,  and  always  staved 
off  the  threatened  chicken. 

Poverty's  Me-  One  day  I  was  visiting  a  little  mission  where 
per>  services  were  carried  on  by  a  lay  reader. 

Just  before  the  service  a  note  was  brought  in 
asking  prayers  for  a  little  Sunday-school 
scholar  sick  with  typhoid  fever.  After  the 
service  the  lay  reader  and  I  went  over  to  the 
home  of  the  little  lad  to  see  him.  His 
mother,  who  had  been  deserted  by  a  drunken 
husband,  lived,  with  two  little  children,  in  a 

104 


fllfesionaiy  in  t/)e  Great  West 

two-roomed  hovel— it  would  be  an  insult  to 
architecture  to  call  it  a  house.  It  was  winter 
again,  and  the  front  room  was  cold.  There  was 
no  fire  in  it,  and  the  woman,  with  her  children, 
was  in  the  other  room,  the  kitchen. 

The  little  lad,  about  six  years  old,  in  the 
last  and  lowest  stages  of  typhoid  fever,  was 
lying  upon  an  old  dilapidated  sofa.  A  little 
baby  girl,  about  two  years  old,  was  dying  of 
pneumonia  on  a  soiled  pillow  on  a  rickety 
Boston  rocker.  The  broken  but  uncomplain- 
ing woman  sat  between  the  two,  the  picture 
of  despair,  weeping  the  silent,  bitter  tears  of 
ground-down  poverty  and  sorrow.  We  did 
what  we  could  to  comfort  her,  and  as  we 
walked  away  I  said  to  the  lay  reader  that 
the  children  would  undoubtedly  die,  and  if 
he  would  let  me  know  I  would  try  to  provide 
for  their  funeral  expenses. 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  he  replied  promptly. 
"My  people,  who  are  all  poor  like  these,  have 
contributed  a  little  fund  for  just  such  emer- 
gencies as  this.  That  woman  there  has  never 
failed  to  make  a  weekly  offering  to  that  fund, 
and  we  need  no  outside  help." 
105 


RecolCections  of  a 

Two  generous  Oh,  the  generosity  of  the  poor!  How  it 
counts,  and  what  it  means  to  God  and  man  !  I 
was  preaching  and  asking  for  missionary 
money  once  before  two  different  congrega- 
tions on  the  same  day.  The  next  day  brought 
me  two  contributions.  One  was  a  check  for 
one  thousand  dollars  (this  was  in  the  East) 
from  a  noble  and  generous  woman  who  was  as 
kind  as  she  was  wealthy.  The  other  was  an 
assortment  of  petty  coins,  amounting  to  thirty 
cents,  from  a  blind  woman,  an  inmate  of  an 
eleemosynary  institution,  who  had  no  income 
of  any  kind  save  what  accrued  to  her  from 
the  sale  of  some  useless  articles  of  her  own 
feeble  handiwork,  which  she  disposed  of  in- 
frequently to  the  curious  who  chanced  to  visit 
the  home.  This  thirty  cents  was  all  she  had 
made,  all  that  she  was  likely  to  have  for  a 
long  time.  I  valued  the  one  gift  no  more 
than  the  other. 

No  money  in    That  was  not  the  point  of  view  of  a  certain 

tionclasjT    treasurer   of  a  congregation  I    once   knew. 

The  confirmation  class  which  was  presented 

to  the  bishop  was  a  very  large  one,  but  most 

106 


in  tge  Great  West 


of  its  members  were  young,  and  those  who 
were  not  were  poor.  "Yes/7  said  the  treasurer, 
in  response  to  the  rather  enthusiastic  com- 
ment of  the  minister,  "yes,  it  is  a  nice  class, 
but  I  do  not  think  we  will  rent  any  pews  in 
it."  The  same  man,  speaking  of  an  unusual 
congregation  at  an  evening  service,  said  to 
the  same  minister  :  "Yes,  you  are  right  5  it  is  a 
large  congregation  ;  but  there  is  no  money 
in  it." 

I    was    preaching    about    missions    another     Hoist  by  my 

time,  urging  the  congregation  to  make  some       vn 

sacrifice  for  the  missionary  cause,  and  indicat- 

ing to  them  several  methods  by  which  they 

could  follow  my  advice.    Among  other  things, 

I  suggested  that  they  refrain  from  purchasing 

any  book  which  they  very  much  desired,  and 

donate  the  money  to  me  instead  for  my  mis- 

sionary work.     I  happen  to  have  perpetrated 

a  book  myself.*    You  will  therefore  under- 

stand my  feelings  when  a  very  bright  woman 

in  the  congregation  came  up  to  me  and  handed 

me  a  dollar,  with  this  remark  : 

*  I  have  perpetrated  several  since  then  I 

107 


Recolt ectlons  of  a 

"I  had  intended  to  buy  your  book  and  read 
it,  Mr.  Brady,  but  I  have  concluded  to  follow 
your  advice  and  give  you  the  money  for  mis- 
sions instead." 

I  accepted  the  situation  gracefully  and  the 
money  gratefully,  and  told  her  that  I  would 
lend  her  my  own  copy  of  the  book  to  read. 
She  smiled  and  thanked  me,  and  as  she  did  so 
I  voiced  my  thought  in  this  way : 

"But,  after  all,  Mrs.  R ,  there  does  not 

seem  to  be  any  sacrifice  on  your  part  in  this 
transaction,  for  you  have  the  happy  conscious- 
ness of  having  given  the  money,  for  missions, 
and  yet  have  the  book  as  well." 

"No  sacrifice?"  she  replied.  "Why,  I 
have  to  read  the  book ! " 

Good  for  the    Speaking  of  that  book,  a  fine  old  clerical 
m library  °°    friend  of  mine  read  it,  and  after  complimenting 
me  upon  it,  concluded  his  remarks  as  follows : 
"Well,    Archdeacon,    there     are    several 
'  damns7  and  a  'hell'  or  two  in  that  book  of 
yours,  but,  after  all,  I  thought  it  might  well  go 
into  the  parish  library  "—whether  as  a  fright- 
ful example  or  not,  he  did  not  tell  me. 

108 


in  tge  Great  West 


There    is    humor    everywhere,   even    in    so    Revenue  from 
staid  and   conservative   a  document  as  the    J  e  sraveyat 
journal  of  a  diocesan  convention,  with  its  dry 
parochial  statistics.     One  report  I  recall  was 
accompanied  by  a  note  like  this  : 

"The  parish  has  added  four  acres  to  its 
graveyard,  and  hopes  for  a  large  increase  in 
its  revenue  from  that  addition." 


109 


CHAPTER  VII 

Profanity  /~\NE  day  on  the  'Frisco  road  the  engine 
\J  broke  down.  It  was  a  freight-train,  and 
I  was  the  only  passenger  ;  consequently  I  went 
out  and  worked  with  the  train  crew,  pulling 
and  heaving  and  hauling  with  the  rest.  I 
knew  something  about  the  principles  of  me- 
chanics, and  was  familiar  with  the  machine  as 
well,  being  quite  capable  of  running  the 
engine  myself,  and  was  therefore  able  to  ad- 
vise them  to  some  purpose.  The  work  was 
carried  on  under  a  vigorous  and  uninter- 
rupted flow  of  profanity,  profusely  and  pic- 
turesquely weird  in  the  highest  degree. 

It  was  not  so  shocking  as  it  might  be  under 
other  circumstances,  for  I  knew  the  men 
meant  nothing  by  it— that  it  was  only  a  mat- 
ter of  habit  with  them,  as  it  is  with  ninety 
people  out  of  a  hundred  who  are  guilty  of  the 
same  bad  practice.  Finally  I  suggested  an 
interruption  in  the  swearing,  as  I  was  a 

110 


3  (Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

preacher.  The  head  brakeman  dropped  his 
crowbar  with  a  look  of  abject  astonishment. 
Everybody  else  let  go  at  the  same  time,  and 
the  engine  settled  down  again.  They  looked 
at  me  in  consternation,  which  was  very 
amusing. 

"H— 1  and  blazes ! "  said  the  conductor, 
"you  are  a  what?  " 

"A  preacher,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  I  7m  d— d ! "  he  answered,  with  a 
long  whistle  of  astonishment. 

He  regarded  me  thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  A  man,  anyway 
and  finally  said,  "Well,  sir,  you  work  like  a 
man,  anyway.     Ketch  hold  again." 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  smiling  at  his 
frankness ;  "but  no  more  swearing  on  this 
trip." 

"Nope,"  was  the  laconic  reply.  And  the 
promise  was  kept. 

At  the  close  of  our  manoeuvres,  when  we 
all  stood  panting  but  successful,  the  engineer 
remarked :  "Well,  it  7s  the  first  time  I  ever 
saw  a  preacher  that  knowed  a  reversing-lever 
from  a  box-car  before.  Come  up  and  ride 
with  me  the  rest  of  the  way."  Aside  from 
111 


RecoUections  of  a 

his  profanity,  I  found  Mm  a  pleasant  and  in- 
teresting companion,  and  whenever  I  made 
the  town  at  the  end  of  his  run,  he  never  failed 
to  come  to  church. 

An  interroga-    On  that  same  train,  earlier  in  the  day,  I  rode 
tion-point 

for  a  long  distance  alone  with  a  living  inter- 
rogation-point. As  I  am  something  of  an  in- 
terrogation-point myself,  as  far  as  regards  men 
from  whom  I  make  a  practice  of  constantly 
seeking  to  acquire  information  on  the  subjects 
they  know,  we  clashed  considerably.  Just 
before  he  got  off,  he  was  speaking  of  some 
friend  of  his,  and  said  in  a  very  naive  way : 

"Yes,  John  is  a  very  different  man  from 
me.  We  ain't  one  bit  alike,  and  John  is  one 
of  the  most  honest  men  I  ever  knew."  I  was 
glad,  after  that  statement,  that  he  did  not  try 
to  borrow  a  dollar  from  me  before  he  left. 


The  criticism    Speaking  of  a  most  honest  man  reminds  me 

of  Orsdwus 

of  another  old  friend  of  mine,  who  rejoiced 

under  the  peculiar  name  of  Orsamus  Stocuin. 
Once,  when  referring  to  a  sermon  he  had 
heard  me  preach,  he  remarked  that  it  was  a 

112 


Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

very  good  sermon,  but  "pretty  middlin'  long," 
and  lie  thought  I  "must  ?a7  got  awful  tired 
preachin'  it." 
I  had. 

I  did  not  always  meet  with  pleasant  recep-      Warned  to 

keep  away 
tions  at  new  places,  and  I  was  warned  on  one 

occasion  that  no  services  were  desired  and 
that  none  would  be  permitted,  and  that  if  I 
consulted  my  own  interests  and  the  interests 
of  peace  and  harmony,  which  I  was  supposed 
to  promote,  I  would  stay  away.  Of  course, 
after  that,  nothing  on  earth  could  keep  a  man 
from  going  to  just  that  place. 

On  my  arrival  I  was  met  by  a  large  body 
of  citizens  who  had  no  interest  either  in  me 
or  in  religion,  but  who  were  determined  to 
see  fair  play.  They  escorted  me  to  a  hotel, 
had  secured  a  vacant  store  building,  and  were 
all  ready  for  trouble  if  those  whom  they  called 
the  anti-religious  faction  desired  to  make  any. 
In  fact,  I  think  they  were  thirsting  for  trouble. 
There  were  no  women  at  services  that  night  j 
nothing  but  men— and  "guns." 

I  did  not  feel  particularly  cheerful,  but 
113 


Recolt ections  of  a 

managed  to  get  through  some  way,  and  tried, 
somehow  or  other,  to  win  over  the  opposing 
faction,  so  that  in  subsequent  visits  "guns " 
would  be  laid  aside.  But  we  had  no  trouble, 
and  I  managed  to  get  hold  of  them  all  event- 
ually, so  that  my  truculent  escort  was  dis- 
pensed with  in  future  visits,  and  the  women 
came  to  church. 

Time  to  be  in-       When  once  you  get  the  friendship  of  those 
troduced 

frontiersmen  you  are  all  right ;  you  can  say 

anything  to  them.  But  they  are  so  very  hasty 
with  their  weapons  that  frequently  you  do 
not  have  an  opportunity  to  get  properly  in- 
troduced. 

A  Western     Later,  at  this  very  town,  I  was  present  at  a 
entertainment 

little  entertainment  given  for  the  benefit  of 

the  church,  and  it  was  certainly  entertaining. 
There  were  no  programs,  so,  just  before  the 
curtain  rose,  an  embarrassed  young  man  came 
out  on  the  stage  and  stated  that  there  was  to 
be  a  Queen  of  Fame  who  had  a  laurel  wreath 
which  she  would  award  to  the  most  correctly 
represented  historical  character  present.  He 
closed  with  this  sentence  : 

114 


in  t/je  Great  West 


"The  curtain  will  now  raise,  then  the  char- 
acters come  in,  one  by  one,  an7  each  particular 
character  says  what  7s  his  or  her  particular 
claim  to  this  here  wreath." 

The  curtain  rose,  the  goddess  appeared,  and 
then  the  characters,  particular  and  otherwise, 
made  their  appearance  before  her.  It  was 
indescribably  funny.  Izaak  Walton  was 
dressed  in  a  pair  of  patent  wading-boots  and 
a  cork  helmet,  Pocahontas  flirting  with  a 
Japanese  fan,  Michelangelo  in  a  bicycle  suit 
and  gray  wig  and  beard,  Xanthippe  wear- 
ing a  red  cheese-cloth  waist,  tight-fitting, 
with  apron  and  white  mob-cap,  and  carrying 
a  fire-shovel  with  which  to  coerce  the  unfortu- 
nate Socrates,  who  was  gloomily  enshrouded 
in  an  appropriate  black  domino.  (N.  B.  The 
costumes  were  not  meant  to  be  burlesque  5 
and  the  whole  thing  was  serious—  very  serious 
to  the  performers,  and  mainly  so  to  the  audi- 
ence—except to  me.) 

Diogenes  was  wrapped  in  a  Navajo 
blanket,  Leif  Ericson  was  dressed  in  an 
astonishing  costume  decorated  with  feathers 
and  scalps,  his  feet  covered  with  Indian  moc- 
115 


RecoCtections  of  a 

casins,  and  a  lady's  white  ruche  tied  around 
each  ankle.  Emma  Abbott,  Mlsson,  and 
Jenny  Lind  each  sang  songs.  Joan  of  Arc 
appeared  in  knickerbockers  and  boots,  carry- 
ing the  cover  of  a  wash-boiler.  Miriam  led 
her  Jewish  maidens  on  deck,  one  of  them 
merrily  playing  on  a  banjo  ;  and  so  on. 

The  ' '  Halle-        During  the  intermission,  as  this  was  profess- 
lujah  Chorus ' ' 
on  the  trombone  edly  a  "semi-religious  "  affair,  the  orchestra, 

which  consisted  of  two  fiddles  and  a  horn, 
played  an  anthem,  and  finished  with  the  "Hal- 
lelujah Chorus,"  the  hallelujah  portion  being 
taken  by  the  melancholy  trombone.  I  said 
at  the  close  that  I  had  learned  more  in  one 
brief  evening  than  I  ever  thought  possible ;  I 
knew  more  about  ancient  costumes  than  ever 
before. 

A  border  town  This  is  a  description  of  one  of  the  most 
primitive  towns  I  ever  ministered  to,  which 
I  take  from  a  letter  written  at  the  time  : 

"It  is  a  frontier  cattle  town  of  the  kind 
you  read  about  in  dime  novels— if  you  ever 
read  any.  It  consists  of  one  long,  straggling 
street,  lined  on  both  sides  with  frame  stores, 

116 


^Missionary  in  tfie  Great  West 

saloons,  and  gambling  dens,  mostly  unpainted. 
There  are  twelve  saloons  on  the  street  and 
only  about  three  hundred  people  in  the  town. 
Faro,  keno,  "craps,"  and  every  other  kind  of 
gambling  games  are  going  on  at  full  blast  and 
with  no  attempt  at  concealment.  There 
every  man  you  meet  carries  a  "forty-five,"  i.e., 
a  45-caliber  revolver,  and  a  belt  of  cartridges 
at  his  waist. 

"I  stayed  at  the  Grand  Central.  The  mag- 
nificence of  the  name  and  the  comforts  of  the 
hotel  are  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  each  other. 
The  rooms  are  tiny,  and  the  partitions  thin 
boards  or  canvas  screens ;  therefore  the  con- 
versations are  audible  and  forcible.  I  asked 
for  toast  last  night  at  supper,  and  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  the  cook  inquire,  'What 

in does  the dude  preacher  want 

toast  at  night  for  ?  Tell  him  he  can't  have  it. 
I  ain't  givin'  out  no  toast  to  nobody  at  this 
hour.7  If  I  had  known  how  he  would  have 
taken  it,  I  would  have  starved  before  I  asked 
for  it. 

"There  is  not  a  tree  in  the  town,  and  no 
grass  (I  know  places  where  not  even  the  cot- 
117 


RecolCections  of  a 

tonwood  would  grow,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
the  ground  around  the  trees  for  ten  feet  in 
every  direction  was  ploughed  up  and  watered 
regularly).  The  streets  are  as  hard  as  iron ; 
it  has  not  rained  for  months.  Water,  how- 
ever, does  not  appear  to  be  in  demand.  Very 
few  drink  it,  and  not  many  wash. 

1  feel  peaceable  "The  day  before  I  arrived,  three  despera- 
does broke  out  of  the  jail  after  killing  a  guard, 
armed  themselves,  and  fled.  The  sheriff  and 
a  posse  made  up  of  all  the  male  citizens,  and 
a  few  of  the  female,  immediately  started  in 
pursuit,  overtook  them,  fought  them,  killed 
two  of  them,  and  wounded  another  desper- 
ately. One  of  the  deputy  sheriffs  had  his  arm 
blown  off  in  the  fight.  This  was  looked  upon 
as  quite  an  ordinary  affair,  exciting  little  com- 
ment, and  only  elicited  a  brief  notice  in  the 
weekly  newspaper,  with  a  significant  warning 
to  the  rest  of  the  prisoners  in  the  jail  to  stay 
there  until  they  were  released.  I  should 
think  they  would  stay.  I  never  felt  so  peace- 
able in  my  life.  I  really  have  no  desire  to 
quarrel  with  any  one. 

"The  church  is  an   unceiled,   unsheathed 

118 


in  tge  Great  West 


wooden  building,  unpainted  also,  the   only    A  relief  from 

church  in  town.     Everybody  nearly  comes  to         'aro 

church  to  services.      They  look  upon  it  as  an 

intellectual  diversion  perhaps,  and  as  a  relief 

from  the  monotony  of  faro,  at  which  they  al- 

ways lose.     This  morning,  while  waiting  for 

service   time,   I   stood   in    the  big  'general 

store  ?  and  watched  the  scene.     It  struck  me 

as  something  incongruous  to  see  a  six-foot 

man,  bearded  like  the  pard,  with  a  mustache 

fierce  enough  for  Don  Cesar  de  Bazan,  with  a 

red  flannel  shirt  on,  and  armed  with  the  usual 

forty-five,  selling  baby  clothes.     It  amused  me 

inwardly,  but  I  assure  you  I  was  grave  out- 

wardly.   As   I  stood  by  and  watched   the 

transaction,  I  would  not  have  expressed  my 

real  feelings  for  the  whole  store.     Most  of  the 

clerks   are  as   piratical-looking  as  the  one 

mentioned,  and  most  of  the  customers  ditto. 

"There  was  a  street-fight  this  morning  be- 
tween two  ruffians  about  a  claim,  in  which  one 
was  badly  used  up.  The  monotony  of  the 
landscape  was  also  broken  by  the  attempt  of 
a  famous  '  buck  -jumper  7  to  conquer  an  equally 
famous  bronco.  The  man  finally  won,  but  it 
119 


Recoil ections  of  a 

was  after  a  struggle  which  almost  beggars  de- 
scription. 

Livelier  on  "They  tell  me  that  it  is  very  quiet  here,  and 
that  I  should  see  the  'city'  on  Saturday  and 
Sunday,  when  the  boys  are  in  from  the  range. 
Heaven  forbid !  It  has  been  bitter  cold  all 
day  and  night,  and  is  about  100°  this  morning. 
The  wind  blew  a  simoon  from  the  south  all 
day  Thursday,  and  it  was  as  hot  as  '  India's 
coral  strand.'  On  Friday  a  norther  swept 
down  upon  us,  and  the  temperature  makes 
one  think  of  'Greenland's  icy  mountains.' 
The  inhabitants  themselves  remind  me  of 
another  line  of  that  old  missionary  hymn. 
"We  know  not  what  the  weather  will  be  later 
on ;  it  has  not  yet  developed.  Many  of  the 
inhabitants  live  in  dugouts,  some  in  sod 
houses,  with  here  and  there  a  lonesome,  star- 
ing, ambitious,  wretched  little  'Queen  Anne 
cottage,'  unpainted." 

This  did  not  seem  a  very  promising  field 
for  the  Church,  yet  we  subsequently  succeeded 
in  establishing  services,  and  now  the  mission 
is  thriving  and  the  character  of  the  town  is 
entirely  changed. 

120 


Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

One   of  my  Sunday  circuits  necessitated  a    Doubling  the 

start  from  my  home  at  one  o'clock  on  Satur- 

day  afternoon.     By  continuous  travelling  I 

would  reach  my  first  point  at  seven  o'clock 

Sunday  morning.    Services  were  at  half-past 

seven  in  a  pretty  little  farm  church  several 

miles  from  the  station,  built  right  out  in  the 

fields. 

This  church  was  afterwards  destroyed  by  a 
cyclone.  The  farmers  who  made  up  the  con- 
gregation had  no  money,  but  they  had  land, 
and  they  each  one  of  them  planted  one  acre 
of  their  best  land  in  wheat,  which  was  to  be 
harvested  and  sold  for  the  new  church.  The 
crops  failed.  Next  year  they  planted  two 
acres.  The  crops  failed  again.  And  the  third 
year  they  planted  three  acres,  and  had  a  fine 
harvest,  the  proceeds  of  which  they  reli- 
giously set  aside  for  the  new  church  building 
fund,  which  presently  enabled  them  to  replace 
the  wrecked  building.  Such  perseverance  I 
have  not  often  seen.  Every  time  they  lost 
they  doubled  the  stakes  on  the  Lord's  side 
till  they  won. 

After  that  early  service,  which,  be  it  re- 
121 


Recollections  of  a 

A  door-keeper  membered,  they  only  had  once  in  about  five 
the  Lord  or  s^  weeks,  I  drove  or  rode  to  a  little  town 
nine  miles  away.  The  church  people  in  that 
town  were  of  a  different  sort,  and  I  frequently 
had  to  sweep  and  dust  out  the  building,  and 
in  winter  kindle  the  fire  myself,  besides  ring- 
ing the  church  bell,  which  was  a  very  large 
hand  affair,  such  as  auctioneers  or  small  res- 
taurant-keepers use.  I  have  often  stood  on 
the  street  and  swung  that  bell  until  I  could 
gather  some  sort  of  a  congregation.  This  was 
only  at  first,  however,  for  later  the  people 
waked  up  and  did  what  was  proper. 

Hustling  times  When  that  service  was  over,  I  would  get  a 
lunch  packed  in  a  little  basket.  At  first  I 
had  it  packed  at  a  hotel,  but  afterwards  the 
people  did  it  for  me,  and  very  nice  lunches 
they  were.  Armed  with  my  little  basket,  I 
would  drive  twelve  miles  to  another  town, 
holding  a  service  there  about  two  o'clock, 
after  which  I  would  take  the  afternoon  train 
for  my  fourth  station  and  service  at  night. 
Sometimes— not  always,  but  almost  every 
other  time— I  would  have  to  ride  between 
twenty  and  thirty  miles  to  catch  another  train, 

122 


in  tge  Great  West 


and  this  would  compel  me  to  get  up  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Those  were  hustling 
times  ! 

Though  an  Eastern  man,  I  learned  to  hustle    Too  Western 
with  the  rest—  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  I 
have  never  been  able  to  get  out  of  the  habit, 
and  I  was  recently  told,  therefore,  that  I  was 
"too  Western  for  a  civilized  diocese." 

Speaking  of  lunches  put  up  for  me,  nothing    "Scrapple" 

could  exceed  the  generosity  of  the  people 

with  what  they  had.     I  used  to  reach  home 

generally  feeling  and  looking  like  a  truck- 

wagon.     Pots  of  jam,  the  omnipresent  pre- 

serves  (they  were  worse  on  preserves  out 

there  than  a  New-Englander  is  with  his  pie), 

jars  of  pickled  onions,  fruit,  loaves  of  home- 

made bread—  I  carried  them  all  home. 

But  my  crowning  achievement  was  the 
transportation  of  several  pounds  of  "scrapple  " 
for  five  days  over  a  thousand  miles  of  country. 
There  was  only  one  place  in  eighty  thousand 
square  miles  of  territory  in  which  that  delec- 
table compound  was  made,  by  an  old  Pennsyl- 
123 


Recoil ectlons  of  a 

vania  friend  of  mine,  and  I  was  determined 
to  get  it  home.  I  succeeded,  but  the  oleagi- 
nous concoction  ruined  my  "grip  "  ! 

Peripatetic  One  of  the  churches  I  mentioned  a  moment 
since  had  been  built  by  an  English  farm  col- 
ony, which,  as  its  members  knew  nothing  of 
farming,  came  quickly  to  grief.  The  pretty 
little  building  stood  alone  on  the  prairie,  ut- 
terly useless.  One  fine  day  we  raised  it  on 
wheels,  hitched  teams  to  it,  and  hauled  it 
some  twenty  miles  over  the  prairie  (fortu- 
nately there  were  no  watercourses  interven- 
ing) to  a  little  town,  where  it  found  a  perma- 
nent abiding-place  and  did  good  service. 

"We  often  moved  church  buildings  over  the 
country,  following  the  people  after  "busted 
booms  "  had  forced  them  into  other  localities. 

Breaking  up  When  I  stayed  longer  than  an  hour  or  two 
e  sr°l  in  any  place,  I  always  told  the  people  to  have 
as  many  services  as  they  liked— that  I  would 
conduct  them  and  preach  at  all  of  them.  As 
many  of  them  only  had  services  when  I  would 
come  to  them,  once  every  six  weeks  or  so, 

124 


Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

they  often  availed  themselves  of  my  permis- 
sion, and  sometimes  astonished  me  by  the 
number  of  occasions  for  preaching  and  ser- 
vices that  were  invented. 

After  I  had  succeeded  in  working  up  two 
or  three  missions  in  any  neighborhood  to  a 
partially  self-supporting  basis,  the  bishop 
would  get  a  little  money  from  the  East,  and 
add  to  it  what  the  people  could  provide,  and 
we  would  put  a  resident  missionary  in  the 
field.  In  fact,  that  was  my  chief  duty.  I  was 
only  to  break  up  the  ground  and  prepare  the 
way — a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  pioneer.  But 
there  were  some  places  which  were  too  poor 
or  too  far  away  ever  to  be  combined,  and  these 
I  took  care  of  all  the  time. 

Train  robberies  and  bank  robberies  were  fre-  Tram  robberies 
quent ;  we  were  used  to  them.  I  remember, 
the  wife  and  daughter  of  a  friend  of  mine,  an 
army  officer  stationed  on  the  frontier,  were 
going  East.  As  the  train  started  out  of  Chi- 
cago they  heard  sounds  like  pistol-shots  from 
the  roadside.  The  woman  and  her  daughter 
immediately  dropped  to  the  floor  between  the 
125 


Recottections  of  a 

seats  of  the  Pullman,  and  crouched  down,  re- 
maining thus  concealed  until  they  saw  they 
were  attracting  a  great  deal  of  attention  from 
the  amused  passengers.  When  they  were 
asked  for  an  explanation  of  their  singular 
conduct,  they  could  only  say  that  they  thought 
that  it  was  a  "hold-up  "  of  the  train,  and  they 
were  doing  as  they  had  been  taught. 
The  Dalton  I  was  at  Coffeyville  a  day  or  two  after  the 
famous  raid  by  the  Daltons,  in  which  all  the 
raiders  were  killed  except  one,  who  was  des- 
perately wounded  and  captured.  In  the 
action  several  of  the  citizens  lost  their  lives 
as  well.  The  town  for  months  after  was  in  a 
state  of  siege.  Every  man  had  a  Win- 
chester in  his  office  or  store,  and  it  was 
almost  as  much  as  his  life  was  worth  for  a 
suspicious  character  to  enter  a  bank.  Revol- 
vers were  sprinkled  everywhere. 

Dying  game  In  one  little  town,  where  there  was  but 
one  bank,  two  men  rode  into  the  town  in  the 
morning,  walked  into  the  bank,  shot  the  pres- 
ident dead,  mortally  wounded  the  cashier— 
the  clerk,  fortunately  for  him,  being  at  the 

126 


in  tge  Great  West 


post-office.  The  men  seized  all  the  available 
cash  inside  the  counter  and  rode  off.  They 
were  immediately  pursued  by  the  citizens,  led 
by  the  city  marshal. 

The  robbers,  hard  pressed,  took  shelter  in 
a  "cooley,"  or  gully.  They  had  chosen  a 
strong  position  for  defence,  and  had  put  one 
or  two  bullets  into  some  careless  and  reckless 
citizens  before  they  were  discovered.  The 
cooley,  which  was  a  very  short  one  filled 
with  dry  wood  and  underbrush,  was  im- 
mediately surrounded  by  the  posse.  After 
a  consultation  they  sent  back  to  town  for 
several  barrels  of  oil,  which  they  poured 
down  the  ravine  from  the  hill,  or  the  inside 
end,  and  then  set  fire  to  the  mass.  The  bank 
robbers  stood  it  as  long  as  they  could,  and 
came  staggering  out  of  the  opening,  blinded 
by  the  smoke,  firing  irregularly.  They 
wounded  one  man,  but  were  promptly  lassoed 
and  deprived  of  their  weapons.  Trial  was 
dispensed  with,  and  the  prisoners  were 
mounted  on  the  tail  of  a  wagon,  a  noose  was 
cast  about  each  man's  neck,  and  the  ends  of  the 
ropes  fastened  to  the  limb  of  a  stumpy  tree. 

127 


g  (Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

"Got  anything  to  say  before  you  die?" 
asked  the  marshal,  grimly. 

"Nothing"  said  the  leader  of  the  band  of 
two,  a  boy  of  twenty-one  years  of  age.  "We 
did  it.  I  shot  the  cashier  myself.  We  '11 
show  you  that  we  ain't  afraid  of  you.  We 
only  want  you  to  tell  the  boys  that  we  died 
game." 

"We  '11  do  it,"  said  the  marshal,  apprecia- 
tively. "Get  up,"  he  laconically  shouted  to 
the  bronco  ;  and  that  was  all. 

That  was  the  town  in  which  I  buried  the 
Daughter  of  the  King  of  whom  I  told  you. 


128 


CHAPTER  VIII 


TO  turn  to  lighter  themes,  I  had  a  wedding 
one  day  at  another  frontier  town.  There 
was  no  church  there,  and  as  we  sat  waiting 
for  the  bride  and  groom  to  come  into  the 
parlor,  some  of  the  men  present  began  giving 
personal  reminiscences  of  their  own  weddings, 
one  man  speaking  thus  : 

"When  I  was  married,  nothin'  would  do 
my  ol'  woman  but  that  I  must  have  a  pair  of 
white  kids.  She  'd  been  raised  right,  back 
East,  an'  she  knowed  they  was  the  proper 
thing.  Kids  on  them  things,  boys  ! "  he  said, 
bursting  into  deep  laughter,  and  exhibiting  a 
pair  of  red  hands  that  would  have  consorted 
well  with  the  physique  of  a  Samson.  "Just 
think  of  it !  But  I  sent  East  for  'em,  an7  got 
'em,  too.  It  took  some  time,  an'  we  had  to 
put  off  the  weddin',  for  they  had  to  be  made 
a  special  size.  An'  when  the  weddin'  night 
come,  I  worked  for  an  hour  gettin'  'em  on, 
129 


The  only  kid 

gloves  in  the 

Territory 


fcecotCections  of  a 

busted  7em  to  pieces  before  I  got  through,  an7 
gosh !  I  sweat  like  a  roped  steer.  But  my  wife 
she  said,  ragged  or  not  ragged,  it  was  the 
finest  weddin'  in  the  Territory,  'cause  nobody 
had  never  been  married  in  kids  there  before." 
The  bride  balks  The  bride,  who  was  a  head  taller  than  the 

at  obeying 

groom,  was  a  bold,  vigorous,  red-faced,  mas- 
culine-looking woman,  while  the  groom  was  a 
rather  timid,  sallow  little  man.  She  said  she 
was  twenty-two  and  he  was  twenty-one.  It 
was  midsummer,  and  as  they  stood  under  the 
hanging  lamp  the  perspiration  poured  off  the 
bride's  face  in  streams.  When  we  came  to 
that  part  of  the  service  in  which  the  woman 
promises  to  obey  her  husband  to  be,  there 
was  a  pause.  The  big  bride  looked  down  on 
the  little  groom,  and  evidently  felt  the  in- 
congruity of  the  situation. 

"Can't  you  let  that  pass,  parson?"  she 
whispered  pleadingly. 

I  was  inexorable,  however,  so  she  finally 
complied  with  the  requirements,  but  with  an 
exceedingly  bad  grace,  and  we  finished  the 
service. 

I  think  the  company  were  all  surprised 

130 


'{Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

that  I  did  not  kiss  the  bride.  But  I  remem-  Her  religious 
bered  a  story  told  me  by  another  missionary,  PnneSes 
to  the  effect  that  on  a  similar  occasion  he  did 
kiss  the  bride,  whereupon  the  husband  be- 
came abusive  and  threatened  him,  at  which 
the  lady  promptly  interfered.  Laying  aside 
her  bridal  veil  and  catching  her  husband  by 
the  shoulder,  she  shook  him  vigorously,  re- 
marking at  the  same  time  that  she  "did  n't 
allow  no  man  to  interfere  with  her  religious 
privileges,  even  if  he  was  married  to  her  ! " 

At  a  wedding  rehearsal  once  the  groom,  not  "  The  bride 
usually  an  ornament,  though  a  necessary 
appanage,  was  wondering  where  he  should 
go  and  what  he  should  do.  "Oh,"  said  the 
best  man,  "nobody  cares  what  you  do  and 
where  you  go ! "  His  intended  simpered, 
looked  longingly  at  him,  smiled  weakly,  and 
remarked  boldly,  "The  bride  cares." 

Occasionally  I  attended  other  weddings.    The  Hard  on  Epis- 
first  time  I  did  so  I  happened  to  sit  by  a      copa 
very  bright  woman,  who  said  to  me,  when  I 
remarked  that  this  was  the  first  wedding  I 
131 


Recottections  of  a 

had  ever  seen  outside  of  an  Episcopal  Church, 
"Oh,  you  Episcopalians  never  see  anything 
outside  of  your  own  Church,  anyway  ! " 

She  was  the  mother  of  a  delicious  little  tot 
who  concluded  her  baby  prayers  in  this  origi- 
nal way :  "And  please,  God,  take  care  of 
everybody  ;  and  O  God,  take  care  of  Your- 
self, for  You  know  You  are  the  Boss  of  us  all." 

Indomitable     There  was  a  little  town  which  I  will  call  X , 

where  they  had  built  a  nice  little  church  and 
rectory.  Just  as  they  fancied  themselves  on 
secure  foundation,  trouble  began.  Two  of 
the  vestrymen  quarrelled  over  the  wife  of 
another,  and  one  of  the  combatants  shot  the 
other  dead  on  the  public  street.  The  mur- 
derer is  now  serving  a  life  sentence  in  the  peni- 
tentiary (capital  punishment  not  being  the 
custom  in  that  commonwealth)  for  his  crime, 
and  the  woman  has  gone  I  know  not  where. 
This  was  a  staggering  blow  for  the  little 
church,  and  it  was  followed  by  another ;  for 
the  building  was  shortly  afterwards  destroyed 
by  a  cyclone,— which  wiped  out  about  one  half 

132 


^Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

of  the  town,  by  the  way,— and  they  had  no  in- 
surance. 

There  were  but  two  or  three  men  left, 
and  a  dozen  women  and  some  children,  who 
remained  connected  with  the  mission.  They 
had  no  services  except  very  occasional  ones 
from  me,  yet  they  immediately  began  to  raise 
money  for  another  church  building.  One  of 
the  men  still  in  connection  with  the  mission 
was  a  banker.  By  hard  work  the  women  had 
raised  some  three  hundred  dollars,  which  had 
been  deposited  in  the  bank  of  this  man.  In 
one  of  the  seasons  of  panic  the  bank  failed 
and  they  lost  everything. 

It  will  hardly  be  believed,  but  these  indom- 
itable women,  with  no  men  to  help  them  this 
time,  began  their  efforts  again— efforts  which 
have  finally  been  crowned  with  well-deserved 
success.  This  is  the  kind  of  stuff  the  peo- 
ple are  made  of  out  there.  It  requires  the 
most  unbounded  enthusiasm  and  determina- 
tion, the  most  unyielding  perseverance  and 
courage,  to  be  a  pioneer  in  anything,  whether 
it  be  breaking  up  a  farm  or  establishing  a 
church. 
133 


RecolC ectlons  of  a 

An  Irish  bull  It  was  in  that  town  that  I  attended  a  union 
meeting  in  which  one  of  the  ministers  began 
his  prayer  with  words  of  thanksgiving  for  the 
"thoughts  thunk  to-night."  And  it  was  near 
that  place,  also,  that  I  was  delivering  an  ad- 
dress before  a  body  of  old  soldiers,  when  I 
was  greeted  with  roars  of  laughter,  the  cause 
of  which  I  was  ignorant  of  until  I  was  told  by 
friends  that  I  had  gravely  announced  myself 
as  "the  son  of  a  soldier  father  and  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  soldier  mother." 

Why  the  Lot-    People    were    not    always   faithful    to    the 
ter-day  Saints 

failed        Church,  however,  for  I  remember  one  little 

town  which  had  been  more  or  less  abandoned 
for  twelve  years.  I  could  not  find  a  single 
member  of  the  Church  left,  except  one  old  lady 
who  had  been  bedridden  for  a  number  of  years. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiry, 
"I  am  still  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
I  reckon.  We  did  have  about  a  dozen  mem- 
bers once.  There  was—"  and  she  called  over 
a  number  of  names. 

I  interrupted  her  in  each  case  by  asking 
what  had  become  of  the  person  mentioned. 

134 


^Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

"She  7s  joined  the  Latter-day  Saints,"  was 
the  answer,  when  the  subject  of  my  question 
had  neither  removed  nor  died. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  everybody  has  joined 
the  Latter-day  Saints,"  I  commented. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "  'most  every  one. 
They  had  a  revival  here,  and  got  them  all 
except  me." 

"Why  did  n't  they  get  you?  "  I  asked. 

"I  reckon  because  I  was  bedridden  and 
could  not  get  out  where  they  could  get  at 
me,"  she  answered  frankly. 

One  day  the  bishop  inadvertently  sent  two  The  rivals 
clergymen  to  conduct  services  and  preach  in 
a  certain  church  at  the  same  time  on  Sunday 
morning.  Both  were  very  old  men,  and  each 
one  was  fond  of  preaching.  As  they  were  on 
the  retired  list,  they  did  not  have  frequent 
opportunities  for  doing  so.  Each  was  much 
surprised  to  see  the  other  at  the  church. 
They  had  no  difficulty,  however,  in  dividing 
the  services  between  them,  but  the  question 
as  to  who  was  to  preach  was  a  harder  prob- 
lem. Each  man  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
135 


Kecottections  of  a 

lie  would  do  the  preaching  and  the  other 
should  not  enjoy  the  opportunity. 

The  services  went  on  smoothly  enough  until 
the  singing  of  the  last  verse  of  the  hymn 
which  comes  before  the  sermon.  During  the 
singing  the  younger  of  the  venerable  brethren 
stepped  out  from  his  seat  and  openly  knelt 
down  in  the  sight  of  everybody  for  his  pre- 
liminary prayer,  which  he  concluded  in  much 
less  time  than  usual,  lest  he  should  be  caught 
napping,  and  then  he  rose  and  turned  to  the 
pulpit. 

The  older  man  for  the  nonce  had  dispensed 
with  his  private  prayers,  and  as  soon  as  his 
brother  cleric  had  knelt  down,  he  had 
promptly  walked  into  the  pulpit.  As  the 
younger  preacher  stood  looking  at  his  rival 
in  open-mouthed  astonishment  and  consterna- 
tion, the  old  man  bowed  gracefully  to  him, 
and  turning  to  the  congregation,  triumphantly 
began  his  sermon. 

Lost  identity  From  old  men  to  children  is  a  long  step  to 
take.  I  had  one  little  friend  who  was  devot- 
edly attached  to  my  son,  and  he  never  suc- 

136 


in  tge  Great  West 


ceeded  in  referring  to  me  in  any  other  way 
than  as  "Mr.  Brady's  little  boy's  papa." 

I  came  home  from  church  late  one  evening,  Said  them  to 
and  found  my  wife  seated  on  the  porch.  I 
was  met  with  the  request  that  I  go  up-stairs 
and  straighten  out  the  children,  who  had  been 
sent  to  bed  long  since,  but  had  not  gone  to 
sleep.  I  found  one  of  them  lying  on  the  bed, 
her  feet  drawn  up  and  concealed  in  her  night- 
gown, and  the  other  sitting  in  a  constrained 
position  on  the  floor,  in  the  same  way. 

"What  >s  all  the  trouble? "  I  asked. 

"Sister  won't  say  her  prayers,"  remarked 
the  boy. 

"I  did  say  them,"  answered  the  little  girl, 
promptly. 

"Well,  you  did  n't  say  them  to  me,"  he 
persisted. 

"I  said  them  to  God,"  she  replied  trium- 
phantly, "and  you  did  n't  say  yours  to 
anybody." 

"She  's  gone  to  bed  with  her  clothes  on," 
retorted  the  little  boy,  attempting  to  get  back 
on  account  of  this  master  stroke. 
137 


^ecolt  actions  of  a 

"So  >s  he,"  replied  tlie  girl. 

I  examined  them,  and  found  that  they  had 
slipped  their  nightgowns  on  over  their 
clothes  ;  and  when  I  asked  the  reason  why,  I 
learned  that  each  had  refused  to  "unbutton" 
the  other  on  account  of  the  difficulty  about 
the  saying  of  prayers.  It  was  a  theological 
problem  which  I  found  it  not  easy  to 
unravel. 

Wisdom  bom    It  was  another  little  boy  of  my  acquaintance 
of  expet  .  mother,  when  she  was  about  to 


chastise  him  upon  that  part  of  his  anatomy 
especially  appointed  for  the  purpose  : 

"Oh,  mamma,  won't  you  please  distribute 
it  a  little?" 

I  wish  it  were  There  was  a  certain  little  girl  who  belonged 
to  a  Sunday-school  class  in  a  far-away  prairie 
village.  When  I  visited  the  mission,  I  heard 
several  of  the  little  girls  recite  the  catechism. 
Afterwards  I  baptized  some  of  them,  and  then 
invested  each  one  of  them  with  a  little  silver 
cross,  made  them  a  pleasant  little  speech,  and 
finished  by  giving  each  one  of  them  a  kiss. 

138 


(Missionary  in  t/)e  Great  West 

After  I  had  left  the  town,  their  teacher  was 
telling  them  about  crosses  in  general,  and  the 
sign  of  the  cross  in  baptism  in  particular. 

"Yes,  children,"  she  said,  "as  long  as  you 
are  good  that  cross  the  archdeacon  made  on 
your  forehead  shines  brightly,  and  Jesus  sees 
it ;  but  when  you  are  not  good  it  grows  dim, 
and  if  you  continue  to  be  very  bad  it  finally 
fades  away." 

"My  ! "  said  one  sweet  little  miss,  "you  can 
almost  see  the  cross  on  Mr.  Brady's  forehead 
now  yourself,  can't  you?" 

I  think  I  have  never  received  such  a  genu- 
ine, if  utterly  undeserved,  compliment,  nor 
one  that  touched  me  more. 

From  children  to  lunatics  is  another  long     The  biggest 
backward  leap.     I  remember  a  clerical  friend      *r soE™ 
of  mine  who  was  visiting  an  old  schoolmate 
who  happened  to  be  the  curator  of  a  lunatic 
asylum.     As  a  special  favor  my  friend  was 
taken  by  his  friend  into  that  portion  of  the 
asylum  in  which  the  dangerous  cases  were 
kept,  and  to  which  ordinary  visitors  were  not 
allowed  access.    He  was   instructed  before 
139 


RecoU ections  of  a 

entering  the  different  cells  as  to  the  nature  of 
each  case,  and  told  what  he  must  do.  He  was 
informed,  before  one  door,  that  the  man  he 
was  about  to  see  was  only  violent  when  he 
was  disagreed  with,— many  men  who  are  pop- 
ularly supposed  to  be  entirely  sane  are  simi- 
larly affected,  especially  husbands,— and  that 
he  must  acquiesce  in  everything  that  was  said, 
under  penalty  of  fearful  possibilities.  He 
promised  faithfully  so  to  do. 

The  lunatic,  who  was  a  rather  nice-looking 
old  man,  apparently  perfectly  sane,  entered 
upon  a  conversation  with  the  clergyman  at 
once.  He  surprised  the  minister  by  re- 
marking : 

"I  suppose  you  saw  that  President  Cleve- 
land had  been  impeached,  the  other  day,  for 
stealing  ?  " 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply,  very  faintly  delivered. 

"What  a  pity  it  is  that  the  Washington 
Monument  was  blown  up  by  dynamite  by  the 
strikers,  the  other  day,  is  n't  it?"  was  the 
next  question. 

"An  awful  pity,"  said  the  perspiring 
clergyman. 

140 


in  tge  Great  West 


"And  I  am  so  glad  that  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land is  dead,  so  she  can  give  her  son  a  chance 
to  reign  ;  are  n't  you?  "  continued  the  old  man. 

"Yes,  yes,  certainly  ;  it  was  time  for  her  to 
die,"  the  clergyman  answered  desperately. 

The  old  man  stopped,  looked  earnestly  at 
his  embarrassed  visitor,  and  remarked 
suavely  : 

"Did  n't  you  say  you  were  a  clergyman, 
when  you  came  here  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  our  friend,  brightly—  it  was  the 
only  truthful  thing  he  had  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  say  during  the  interview.  He  was 
astonished,  however,  when  the  lunatic  said 
quietly  : 

"Well,  sir,  for  a  preacher  you  are  the  big- 
gest liar  I  ever  saw." 

Tableau. 

Speaking  of  liars  reminds  me  of  a  little  in-     Ananias  in  a 
„-  ...         new  version 

cident.    There  was  a  certain  man  in  a  certain 

mission  who  rarely  ever  contributed  any- 
thing to  the  support  of  the  mission.  There 
are  many  similar  men  in  all  missions.  He 
always  sat  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  and 
141 


RecotCections  of  a 

nobody  knew  of  his  practice  except  the 
man  who  took  up  the  collection.  He  told 
me.  The  warden  was  rather  long  in  receiv- 
ing the  offering  one  day,  and  I  turned  around 
to  see  what  was  the  matter.  It  happened 
that  the  man  had  come  in  very  late,  and  be- 
fore he  knew  it  the  usher  had  placed  him 
upon  the  front  seat.  My  eye  and  his  eye  and 
the  alms-basin  all  struck  the  same  point  at 
the  same  time.  As  usual,  he  put  nothing  in 
it,  but,  not  as  usual,  he  blushed  violently  when 
he  saw  that  I  had  noticed  it. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  his  dry-goods  store 
to  buy  something.  My  purchase  amounted 
to  a  dollar  or  two.  I  paid  for  it,  started  away 
with  it,  and  then  recollected  that  I  had  been 
told  to  get  another  spool  of  thread,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind,  the  cost  of  which  was  about 
ten  cents.  He  tied  up  the  new  parcel  for  me, 
and  when  I  handed  him  the  money,  he  pushed 
it  back  with  a  wave  a  la  Podsnap,  and  this 
remark : 

"I  happened  to  be  caught  in  an  embarrass- 
ing situation  yesterday  morning  in  church" 
(which  was  true).  "I  forgot  to  bring  my 

142 


'(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

usual  collection"  (which  was  not  true),  "so  I 
want  to  donate  this  little  spool  of  thread  as 
an  offering  to  the  Lord  ! " 

The  next  time  I  came  to  that  town  I 
preached  on  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  and  the 
man  did  not  come  back  to  church  for  six 
months. 


143 


CHAPTER  IX 
Jaw-breaking   T)ECREATION  and  instruction  are  com- 

preparation 

-LL  bined  in  a  very  effective  way  in  the 
great  Chautauqua  assemblies  which  are  held  in 
the  West,  and  which  seem  to  find  a  more  con- 
genial environment  there  than  in  the  East. 
Some  of  the  ablest  addresses,  the  finest  ser- 
mons, the  most  interesting  lectures,  I  have 
ever  heard  have  been  delivered  at  these  as- 
semblies. They  are  attended  by  whole  fami- 
lies, but  of  course  crowds  of  young  people 
predominate.  A  local  druggist  in  a  town 
near  which  one  of  the  principal  assemblies 
used  to  meet  remarked  to  me,  one  day,  that  he 
had  made  every  preparation  for  the  coming 
Chautauqua,  and  was  ready  for  it.  He  was 
not  of  a  literary  turn  of  mind,  and  as  I  was 
curious  co  know,  I  asked  him  what  his  prepa- 
rations consisted  of. 

"Doctor,"  he  replied  impressively,  "I  have 
laid  in  six  thousand  pieces  of  chewing-gum  ! " 

144 


g  (Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

I  think  he  sold  them  all  before  the  session 
closed.  I  suppose  that  chewing-gum  was  con- 
sidered an  aid  to  meditation.  The  maxillary 
motion  seems  to  have  a  stimulating  effect  on 
the  mind. 

That  reminds  me  of  a  clerical  friend  of  mine     Unconscious 
who  had  a  fatal  fluency  in  speech.     His  ser- 
mons were  torrents   of  verbosity.     He  was 
asked  how  he  managed  it. 

"Why,"  he  replied  gravely,  "I  get  my 
mind  fixed  upon  a  subject,  and  then  I  just  un- 
consciously cerebrate  and  keep  my  jaws  mov- 
ing." I  think  that  chewing-gum  would  have 
been  an  assistance  to  him.  A  sense  of  humor, 
too,  would  have  helped  him. 

Speaking  of  cerebration  reminds  me  of  an   The  chinch-bug 

achievement  performed  by  a  scientific  little 

giant  well  known  and  loved  throughout  the 

West  for  his  successful  grappling  with  the 

chinch-bug   problem.     I   suppose    there   are 

millions  of  people  who  have  never  heard  of 

the  chinch-bug.     On  the  other  hand,  there  are 

several  millions  who  know  him  intimately  to 

145 


RecolLections  of  a 

their  very  great  sorrow.  The  vicious  little 
insect,  which  the  Century  Dictionary  calls  a 
(i certain  fetid  American  hemipterous  insect 
of  the  genus  Blissus,"  is  a  little  bug  about  an 
eighth  of  an  inch  long,  grayish  black  in  color, 
with  white  markings.  They  literally  swarm 
in  the  wheat-  and  corn-fields  by  the  millions. 
They  crawl  through  a  field  with  remarkable 
rapidity,  and  the  line  of  their  devastating  ad- 
vance is  as  clearly  marked  as  if  the  grain  was 
being  cut  by  a  machine.  For  a  long  time  the 
farmers  were  helpless  before  their  attack. 
A  triumph  of  Dr.  Francis  H.  Snow,  the  chancellor  of  the 
University  of  Kansas,  an  entomologist  of 
world- wide  reputation  (that  is,  he  is  known 
everywhere  except  in  the  East,  where  there  are 
no  chinch-bugs),  after  a  long  course  of  brilliant 
experiments,  discovered  the  method  of  inocu- 
lating the  bug  with  a  deadly  and  very  conta- 
gious disease  ;  he  also  discovered  the  disease. 
He  then  conceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  dis- 
tributing a  few  of  the  inoculated  insects  in  a 
field  where  the  destroying  armies  had  made 
their  appearance,  and,  wonderful  to  relate,  the 
experiment  proved  to  be  a  great  success.  An 

146 


lyjissionary  in  tge  Great  West 

epidemic  of  disease,  superinduced  by  the  few 
inoculated  insects,  swept  through  the  chinch- 
bugs  and  saved  that  particular  crop.  His 
work,  which  comprised  not  only  the  discovery 
of  the  disease,  but  the  method  of  artificial  in- 
oculation and  propagation,  and  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  inoculated  bugs  during  the  long 
winter  season,  so  that  he  might  have  a  supply 
on  hand  with  which  to  begin  the  summer 
campaign,  was  one  of  the  most  beneficial  of 
the  gifts  of  science  to  the  welfare  of  humanity. 

The  money  value  of  property  saved  by  his 
labors,  freely  and  ungrudgingly  given, 
amounts  to  millions  of  dollars— an  enormous 
sum.  The  experiments  of  several  years  have 
shown  that  upward  of  seventy  per  cent,  of 
the  fields  operated  upon  have  been  saved,  and 
the  cases  of  failure  are  due  to  local  causes 
which  are  beyond  control.  During  the  busy 
season  the  farmers  send  in  boxes  of  live  bugs 
to  the  university,  and  receive  in  return,  by 
mail,  a  sufficient  number  of  the  inoculated  in- 
sects to  do  the  work. 

A  field  in  the  grasp  of  the  chinch-bugs  is  a     Devastation 
horrible  sight.    Where  they  have  been  the 
147 


^.ecotCectlons  of  a 

stalks  wither  and  rot,  and  the  inevitableness 
of  their  rapid  attack  upon  the  remainder  of 
the  field  covered  with  tufted  heads  of  wheat 
or  broad  corn-leaves  waving  in  the  breeze,  is 
a  painful  spectacle.  If  you  examine  the  line 
of  attack  closely  you  will  see  that  each  stalk 
is  fairly  blanketed  with  these  loathsome  little 
pests,  sucking  the  life-blood  out  of  it.  A  great 
big  corn-stalk,  shivering  under  the  drain  of 
these  insects,  looks  like  a  human  being  in 
agony. 

A  rash  offer  There  was  a  man  once,  in  a  little  town  I 
visited,  who  kept  a  general  store.  He  was 
approached  one  morning  by  a  farmer  who 
was  indebted  to  him  in  some  small  amount, 
with  a  request  for  an  extension  of  time,  on  the 
plea  that  the  chinch-bugs  were  in  the  farmer's 
corn  and  that  his  crop  was  being  ruined. 

"Chinch-bugs  !     Nonsense  ! "  exclaimed  the 
storekeeper,  rudely.     "I  don't  believe  there 
is  a  chinch -bug  within  a  mile  of  your  field." 
"They  are  there  by  millions,  I  tell  you." 
"Millions  ! "  cried  the  storekeeper,  incredu- 
lously.    "I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do.    I  '11 

148 


in  tfje  Great  West 


give  you  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  gallon  for  every 
gallon  of  the  bugs  you  bring  in  to  me." 

"Done  !  "  replied  the  debtor. 

There  were  several  witnesses  to  the  bargain, 
and  without  saying  a  word  the  farmer  turned 
and  walked  out.  A  day  or  two  after  he  drove 
back  to  the  village  with  a  large  ten-gallon 
can,*  tightly  covered,  which  he  unloaded  from 
his  wagon  and  rolled  carefully  into  the  gen- 
eral store.  There  were  the  usual  number  of 
country  idlers  in  the  store  at  the  time,  who 
were  interested  witnesses  of  the  conversation 
that  ensued. 

"What  have  you  there?"  asked  the  mer- 
chant, suspiciously. 

"Something  for  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Chinch-bugs,"  answered  the  farmer,  calmly 
lifting  the  lid  and  showing  the  can,  completely 
filled  with  a  horrible  mass  of  the  hideous  in- 
sects, tumbling  and  wriggling  like  mad. 

"There  >s  ten  gallon  of  them,"  he  continued, 
"and  I  take  it  that  you  owe  me  fifteen  dollars 

*  I  think  it  was  ten  gallons,  but  if  I  have  made  any  mistake  I 
have  understated  the  quantity. 

149 


•Recollections  of  a 

for  the  lot.  That  will  just  about  square  my 
little  bill,  and  I  will  thank  you  to  give  me  a 
receipt  for  it." 

"Cover  it  up  quick,  for  goodness'  sake,  be- 
fore any  of  them  get  away,"  hastily  remarked 
the  astonished  shopman,  amid  the  uproarious 
laughter  of  the  bystanders. 

Then,  after  asking  if  the  contents  clear 
through  were  in  accordance  with  the  top 
layer,  and  receiving  an  affirmative  answer, 
declining  a  suggestion  that  he  could  examine 
the  case  and  see  for  himself,  the  merchant 
went  back  and  gravely  wrote  out  the  receipt. 
That  was  all  the  farmer  got  out  of  his  wheat- 
field  that  year,  too. 

Quotations  on  The  story  was  too  good  to  keep.  It  got 
u^s  into  the  local  papers,  and  was  quoted  all  over 
the  State.  Every  mail  brought  letters  of  in- 
quiry to  the  unfortunate  shopkeeper,  asking 
for  his  latest  quotation  on  chinch-bugs,  and 
whether  he  paid  the  freight  or  wanted  them 
delivered  F.  O.  B.,  how  he  would  have  them 
shipped,  and  so  on.  He  was  dismayed  at  first, 
but  he  said  afterwards  that  he  believed  that 
he  had  received  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 

150 


(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

free  advertising  out  of  the  incident,  so  he  was 
content.  The  farmer  had  simply  taken  his 
boys  into  the  fields  with  tin  cans,  and  they 
had  stripped  stalk  after  stalk,  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  the  amount  that  they 
brought  in.  It  is  not  safe  to  make  statements 
without  considering  the  consequences. 

I  have  heard  of  an  eminent  bishop,  a  Southern  A  ten-thousand- 
bishop  renowned  for  his  wit,  who  came  North, 
shortly  after  the  close  of  the  War  of  the  Re- 
bellion, to  get  some  money  to  carry  on  the 
missionary  work  of  his  sadly  shattered  diocese. 
He  had  succeeded  in  securing  a  tentative 
promise  of  ten  thousand  dollars  from  a  certain 
wealthy  individual  with  whom  he  was  to  dine 
that  evening,  in  company  with  a  number  of 
other  guests.  One  of  the  company,  with  in- 
credible rudeness,  asked  the  bishop,  during 
the  course  of  the  dinner,  how  they  felt  down 
South  at  being  "licked."  I  think  he  must 
have  been  drinking.  The  bishop,  like  the 
gentleman  he  was,  parried  the  question ;  but 
the  questioner  persisted  in  his  desire,  and  at- 
tracted the  attention,  finally,  of  the  whole 
151 


^ecotCections  of  a 

table  to  Ms  query.  The  bishop  was  human,— 
most  bishops  who  are  worth  anything  are,— 
and  he  finally  lost  his  temper. 

"You  ask  me,  my  young  friend,  how  we 
feel  down  South  at  having  been,  as  you  say, 
licked  ? "  he  said  with  urbane  courtesy. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  sir,  I  will  tell  you.  We  feel  like 
Lazarus." 

"Like  Lazarus,  eh?  Pretty  poor?  Asking 
for  crumbs?"  replied  the  other,  chuckling  at 
his  own  humor. 

"No,  sir,"  answered  the  bishop ;  "I  do  not 
refer  to  that  phase  of  his  character." 

"What,  then?" 

"Why,  Lazarus  was  licked  by  a  dog,  sir. 
We  can  sympathize  with  him,  sir  ! " 

It  was  a  brilliant  and  well-deserved  bit  of 
repartee,  but  it  lost  the  bishop  his  ten  thou- 
sand dollars.  If  I  had  been  the  intending 
donor  I  think  I  would  have  given  him  twenty 
thousand  dollars  for  his  pluck  and  his  wit. 


Following  the    Speaking  of  bishops  reminds  me  of  another 

ung 
152 


bishop's  order    ,  .  , 

bishop  who  was  entertaining  a  modest  young 


in  tge  Great  West 


friend  of  his  from  the  country  at  a  hotel  con- 
ducted on  the  European  plan.  The  bishop  was 
suffering  from  indigestion.  It  is  a  chronic 
complaint  with  bishops  and  travelling  mis- 
sionaries in  general.  They  have  to  eat  so 
many  different  things,  in  so  many  different 
places,  that  it  is  a  wonder  that  they  have  any 
stomachs  left.  The  bishop  had  ordered  for 
himself  a  large  bowl  of  milk  toast.  There 
was  nothing  the  matter  with  the  digestive 
apparatus  of  the  bishop's  visitor,  but  in  the 
presence  of  a  long  and  elaborate  menu  in  a 
foreign  language  he  felt  somewhat  undecided, 
and  while  the  bishop  was  otherwise  engaged 
for  the  moment,  he  whispered  to  the  waiter 
to  bring  him  the  same  things  the  bishop  had 
ordered.  What  was  his  amazement  and  dis- 
appointment, and  the  bishop's  surprise  as  well, 
when,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  waiter  brought 
in  two  large  bowls  of  milk  toast,  one  of  which 
was  put  at  his  place,  instead  of  the  tempting 
repast  which  he  had  anticipated. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  characters  and    At  the  muzzle 
one  of  the  finest  Christians  that  I  ever  came        a 
153 


of  a 


across  in  my  Western  life  was  General  Guy 
V.  Henry  of  the  United  States  army,  recently 
deceased.  He  was  then  only  a  colonel  of  cav- 
alry. He  had  one  of  the  down-stairs  rooms 
in  that  same  boarding-house  in  which  I  was 
an  inmate  with  the  dean  to  whom  I  have  re- 
ferred in  the  first  paper.  The  maid-servants 
of  the  house  slept  in  a  small  room  off  the 
kitchen,  which  was  a  basement  affair.  The 
house  was  a  four-storied  one,  and  I  lived  in 
the  garret.  About  two  o'clock  one  morning 
every  one  in  the  house  was  awakened  by  a 
series  of  the  wildest  shrieks,  proceeding  from 
the  basement.  I  never  heard  such  a  commo- 
tion. The  maids  rushed  up  into  the  hall  in  a 
state  of  frantic  terror,  screaming  that  there 
was  a  burglar  in  the  house,  and  that  their 
room  had  been  entered. 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  dragged  on  a  pair  of 
trousers,  seized  the  poker,  tore  down  the 
stairs,  and  reached  the  kitchen,  as  I  was  the 
youngest  of  the  men  in  the  house,  before  any 
of  the  others.  The  window  was  open.  The 
ground  outside  was  just  on  a  level  with  the 
window-sill.  Gallantly  clutching  the  poker, 

154 


{Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

I  climbed  through  the  window  and  ran  down 
the  yard  to  the  back  fence.  It  was  a  bright 
moonlight  night,  and  the  burglar  was  just 
disappearing  around  the  corner.  There  was 
nothing  I  could  do,  so  I  waved  the  poker 
threateningly  at  him,  climbed  off  the  fence, 
and  started  back  to  the  house. 

When  I  reached  the  window,  I  dropped  to 
my  knees  and  prepared  to  crawl  through  to 
the  kitchen.  Just  as  I  thrust  my  head  into 
the  darkness  of  the  room,  I  felt  a  round,  ice- 
cold  piece  of  steel  firmly  pressed  against  my 
right  temple,  and  a  voice  as  cold  and  hard  as 
the  barrel  of  the  pistol  sternly  directed  me 
to  remain  perfectly  quiet  and  make  no  noise, 
else  I  would  get  the  top  of  my  head  blown  off. 
The  sphinx  itself  would  be  a  vibrant  creature 
beside  me  at  that  moment.  I  was  as  immobile 
as  a  pyramid,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
my  heart  was  beating  like  a  trip-hammer. 
The  cold  voice  called  for  a  light,  and  when 
the  gas  was  ignited,  an  iron  hand  was  applied 
to  the  collar  of  my  nightshirt,  and  I  was 
dragged  inboard. 

"Good  heaven!"  said  the  colonel,  starting 
155 


RecoLlections  of  a 

back  in  astonishment,  but  still  keeping  Ms 
pistol  pointed  at  my  head,  "this  is  a  fine  po- 
sition for  a  theological  student  to  be  in. 
What  are  you  doing  here  at  this  hour?" 

It  took  the  hardest  kind  of  explaining  to 
convince  the  colonel  that  I  had  come  down 
there  as  a  knight-errant  to  rescue  the  maids, 
and  was  not  the  burglar.  When  I  had  suc- 
ceeded in  convincing  him  that  I  was  innocent, 
he  remarked. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  why  you  did  not  say  who 
you  were  before." 

I  replied  that  nothing  on  earth  would  have 
induced  me  to  open  my  mouth  under  the  cir- 
cumstances—that he  had  told  me  to  keep 
quiet,  and  with  the  barrel  of  his  revolver  at 
my  head  I  fully  intended  to  do  so. 

A  warrior  The  colonel  was  one  of  the  manliest  and 
gentlest  men  I  ever  met,  and  as  versatile  as 
he  was  brave.  There  was  a  young  couple  in 
the  house  who  had  a  baby.  They  were  too 
poor  to  have  a  nurse,  and  were  therefore  de- 
prived of  the  pleasure  of  attending  church 
together.  They  were  a  very  devout  pair,  and 

156 


"(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

their  inability  to  be  away  from  the  baby  at 
the  same  time  was  a  great  deprivation  to 
them.  On  Sunday  evenings,  not  once  but 
often,  I  have  known  Colonel  Henry  to  slip 
away  from  his  family  and  go  up -stairs,  and 
take  the  baby  and  care  for  it  the  whole  even- 
ing, so  that  these  two  young  people  could  go  to 
church  together.  He  was  as  good  a  nurse  as 
he  was  a  soldier,  though  some  of  his  methods 
and  remedies  were  certainly  peculiar. 

I  remember  seeing  him,  on  one  occasion     Gin  for  the 
after  services,  rocking  to  and  fro,  holding  the 
baby  clasped  tightly  against  his  breast ;  and 
when  he  was  asked  if  the  infant  had  behaved 
itself,  he  replied : 

"No,  it  did  not— not  at  first,  that  is.  It 
seemed  to  have  some  kind  of  a  cramp,  or  the 
colic ;  but  I  fixed  it  all  right." 

"What  did  you  do  for  it,  colonel!" 

"Well,  I  have  some  fine  old  Holland  gin 
down  in  my  room,  and  I  gave  him  a  good 
dose  of  it,  and  you  see  the  result," 

"Heavens  ! "  exclaimed  the  young  mother, 
in  affright,  clasping  the  infant  to  her  breast, 
"maybe  you  have  killed  it ! " 
157 


A  grim  con- 
trast 


^iecottections  of  a 

"No,  I  have  n't,"  replied  the  colonel,  im- 
perturbably.  "It  7s  all  right.  I  have  not 
been  in  command  of  a  regiment  of  men  for 
ten  years  without  knowing  how  to  take  care 
of  a  baby,  madam." 

The  man  had  been  shot  to  pieces  in  the 
Indian  wars.  Some  of  the  bones  in  his  face 
were  supported  by  artificial  plates.  He  was 
a  scarred  and  battle-worn  veteran.  The  story 
of  his  exploits  stirs  the  blood.  He  looked 
his  career,  too,  and  there  was  a  strange  con- 
trast in  the  picture  presented  by  the  dash- 
ing, brilliant  soldier  calmly  nursing  the  little 
baby. 


Died  at  his 
post  of  duty 


Colonel  Henry  bore  a  prominent  part  in 
the  Spanish- American  War,  and  was  the  first 
governor  of  Puerto  Eico.  He  came  to  see  me 
in  the  cabin  of  a  government  transport  oif 
San  Juan,  where  I  was  lying  deathly  ill 
with  camp  and  typhoid  fever,  contracted 
in  the  service.  I  was  miserably  sick,  but 
not  too  sick  to  read  in  the  dreadfully  wasted 
appearance  of  the  stern-featured,  kindly  old 
soldier,  who  said  words  of  encouragement 

158 


(Missionary  in  tfje  Great  West 

and  greeting  to  me,  that  lie  himself  was  in 
a  bad  way. 

He  stuck  it  out,  in  spite  of  every  entreaty 
from  his  friends  and  the  advice  of  his  surgeon, 
until  he  had  accomplished  his  task  and  had 
been  relieved  at  the  close  of  his  tour  of  duty. 
Then  he  came  home,  and  quietly  folded  up  his 
hands,  and  died  like  the  soldier  and  gentleman 
that  he  was,  without  complaint  and  without 
parade*  He  just  as  truly  died  for  his  country 
as  if  one  of  the  many  bullets  which  had 
stricken  him  down  in  some  of  the  many  fields 
in  the  Kebellion  and  Indian  wars,  in  which 
he  had  been  in  action,  had  ended  his  life. 

He  was  one  of  the  humblest  and  most  thor- 
ough-going Christians  that  I  ever  knew.  I 
remember  many  times  his  telling  me  of  the 
Church  services  that  he  had  conducted.  The 
march  was  never  so  hard,  the  pursuit  never 
so  hurried,  the  cold  never  so  bitter,  the  heat 
never  so  burning,  the  danger  never  so  immi- 
nent, but  that  he  would  find  time  to  take  out 
his  little  worn  Prayer-book  and  read  the  ser- 
vice of  his  Church.  God  bless  him  !  Peace 
and  rest  to  his  memory. 
159 


RecotCections  of  a 

A  gentleman  He  was  not  the  only  hero  I  ever  knew.  The 
world  is  full  of  heroes,  and  this  was  a  humble 
one  ;  but  he  fairly  came  in  the  class.  He 
was  a  conductor  on  one  of  the  railroads  upon 
which  I  frequently  travelled,  and  I  knew  him 
very  well.  My  first  impression  of  him  was 
that  he  was  a  widower.  I  knew  he  had  one 
son,  a  lad  of  whom  he  was  very  fond.  The 
boy  was  attending  school  at  a  country  college 
in  a  little  town  through  which  the  railroad 
ran.  The  youngster  was  always  brought 
down  to  the  station,  on  the  arrival  of  the  train 
every  other  day,  for  a  word  or  two  of  greeting 
with  his  father.  When  his  duty  permitted, 
the  conductor  used  to  sit  down  in  the  seat  by 
me  and  talk  about  his  boy.  The  man  lived 
for  the  child  alone.  He  saved  his  money  for 
his  education  and  for  one  other  purpose,  and 
spent  little  or  nothing  upon  himself. 

One  day  I  noticed  that  his  finger  was 
roughly  tied  up,  and  I  asked  what  was  the 
matter.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  told  me 
he  would  tell  me  when  we  passed  the  next 
station.  There  was  a  long  interval  after  the 
next  station  before  the  train  stopped  again, 

160 


Missionary  m  tge  Great  West 

and  he  came  back  to  me  and  sat  down  by 
me. 

"Well,"  he  began,  "you  know  my  boy?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  think  everybody  on 
the  road  knows  him." 

"He  7s  a  good  boy,  and  he  had  a  mother 
once— my  wife,  of  course."  The  gravity  of  his 
demeanor  prevented  me  from  smiling  at  this 
naive  announcement,  and  I  simply  nodded 
my  head. 

"We  were  as  happy  as  could  be  in  our 
home,  wife  and  I  and  the  lad,  until  one  day 
she  suddenly  went  crazy.  I  think  it  was 
in  her  family.  And  she  has  been  crazy  ever 
since.  She  is  in  a  private  retreat  back  in 
Ohio,  and  I  took  a  vacation  the  other  day  and 
went  back  to  see  her,  as  I  always  do  twice  a 
year." 

"Go  on,"  I  said,  with  growing  interest. 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  was  shown  into  her  room 
last  week,  she  came  toward  me,  and  I  stretched 
out  my  hand  to  her.  Then  she  sprang  at  me 
and  caught  this  finger  in  her  teeth—"  He 
hesitated. 

"Could  n't  you  pull  it  away  ?  "  I  asked. 
161 


3  ^Missionary  in  t$e  Great  West 

"  Yes,  I  might  have,  I  suppose  j  but  she  was 
crazy,  poor  thing,  and  she  did  not  know  what 
she  was  doing.  I  was  afraid  I  would  hurt 
her,  so—"  He  stopped  again. 

"What  did  you  do  !" 

"Nothing  at  all,  sir.  I  spoke  to  her  kindly, 
and  I  just  let  her  chew  it  until  she  got 
through.  She  nearly  bit  the  top  off,"  he  re- 
marked quietly,  getting  up  from  the  seat  and 
going  toward  the  door,  as  the  train  slackened 
up,  nearing  the  next  station. 

Double  duty  The  women,  especially  the  wives  of  the  clergy, 
were  heroes,  too.  I  have  heard  of  one  who 
played  the  little  organ  in  the  church  until 
she  was  forced  to  resign  her  position  (which 
was  without  emolument)  on  account  of  an- 
other baby.  But  a  few  months  found  her 
back  in  her  old  place.  The  baby's  cradle  sat 
by  the  organ  now,  and  the  faithful  musician 
pumped  the  organ  with  one  foot  and  rocked 
the  baby  with  the  other.  In  addition  to  all 
this,  she  led  the  singing.  And  it  was  good 
singing,  too.  I  call  that  heroic. 


162 


CHAPTER  X 

riTEE  love  of  Christmas  is  as  strong  in  the  Christmas-tide 
JL  West  as  it  is  in  any  section  of  the  coun- 
try—perhaps, indeed,  stronger,  for  people 
who  have  few  pleasures  cherish  holidays  more 
highly  than  those  for  whom  many  cheap 
amusements  are  provided.  But  when  the 
manifestation  of  the  Christmas  spirit  is  con- 
sidered, there  is  a  vast  difference  between  the 
"West  and  the  East.  There  are  vast  sections  of 
country  in  which  evergreens  do  not  grow  and 
to  which  it  would  not  pay  to  ship  them  ;  con- 
sequently Christmas  trees  are  not  common,  and 
therefore  much  prized  when  they  may  be  had. 
There  are  no  great  rows  nor  small  clusters 
of  inviting  shops  filled  with  suggestive  and 
fascinating  contents  at  attractive  prices.  The 
distances  from  centres  of  trade  are  so  great 
that  the  things  which  may  be  purchased  even 
in  the  smallest  towns  in  more  favorable  locali- 
ties for  a  few  cents  have  there  almost  a  pro- 
163 


^.ecoUections  of  a 

Mbitive  price  upon  them.  The  efforts  of  the 
people  to  give  their  children  a  merry  Christ- 
mas in  the  popular  sense,  however,  are  strong 
and  sometimes  pitiful. 

Poor  founda-  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  West  is 
settled  by  Eastern  people,  and  that  no  very 
great  difference  exists  between  them,  save  for 
the  advantages  presented  by  life  in  the  West 
for  the  higher  development  of  character. 
Western  people  are  usually  brighter,  quicker, 
more  progressive,  and  less  conservative  and 
more  liberal  than  those  from  whom  they  came. 
The  survival  of  the  fittest  is  the  rule  out 
there,  and  the  qualities  of  character  necessary 
to  that  end  are  brought  to  the  top  in  the 
strenuous  life  necessitated  by  the  hardships 
of  the  frontier.  If  the  people  are  not  any 
better  than  they  were,  it  is  because  they  are 
still  clinging  to  the  obsolete  ideas  of  the 
East. 

Why  the  clergy       The  Eastern  point  of  view  always  reminds 
are  no  better  o  the  layman 


who  was  deploring  the  poor  quality  of  the 
clergy.     "Yes,"  said  the  bishop,   "some   of 

164 


(Missionary  in  tf)e  Great  West 

them  are  poor  j  but  consider  the  stock  from 
which  they  come  !  You  see,  we  have  nothing 
but  laymen  out  of  which  to  make  them." 

The  East  never  understands  the  West— the  Invincible 
real  West,  that  is,  which  lies  beyond  the  Mis- 
sissippi, the  Missouri,  and  the  Kocky  Moun- 
tains. They  know  nothing  of  its  ideas,  its 
capacities,  its  possibilities,  its  educational  fa- 
cilities, its  culture,  its  real  power,  in  the  East. 
And  they  do  not  wish  to  learn,  apparently. 
The  Easterners  fatuously  think,  like  Job,  that 
they  are  the  people,  and  wisdom  will  die  with 
them.  Some  years  since,  an  article  in  the 
"Forum"  on  the  theme,  "Kansas  more  civi- 
lized than  New  York,"  conclusively  proved 
the  proposition  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  pres- 
ent writer  at  least. 

I  sat  at  a  dinner-table,  one  day,  when  the 
salted  almonds  were  handed  me  with  the  re- 
mark :  "I  suppose  you  never  saw  anything 
like  these  out  West.  Try  some."  And 
my  wife  has  been  quite  gravely  asked  if  we 
feared  any  raids  by  the  Indians,  and  if  they 
troubled  us  by  their  marauding,  in  Kansas. 
165 


RecotCections  of  a 

I  have  found  it  necessary  to  inform  the 
curious  that  we  did  not  live  in  tepees  or 
wigwams  in  Nebraska. 

The  location  of  One  day  I  was  talking  with  a  man,  and  a 
very  stupid  man  at  that,  who  informed  me 
that  he  graduated  from  Harvard ;  to  which 
surprising  statement  he  added  the  startling 
information,  for  the  benefit  of  my  presumably 
untutored  occidental  mind,  that  it  was  a 
college  near  Boston !  They  have  everything 
in  the  West  that  the  East  has  so  far  as  their 
sometimes  limited  means  will  provide  them, 
and  when  they  have  no  money,  they  have  pa- 
tience, endurance,  grim  determination,  and 
courage,  which  are  better  than  money  in  the 
long  run. 

Better  every-  The  cities  and  smaller  towns  especially,  as 
ln*towns  *  a  rule,  are  cleaner,  better  governed,  more  pro- 
gressive, better  provided  with  improvements 
and  comforts  than  corresponding  places  in 
the  East.  Scarcely  a  community  exists  with- 
out its  water- works,  electric-light  plant,  tele- 
phone system,  trolleys,  paved  streets,  etc. 
Of  course,  this  does  not  apply  to  the  extreme 
frontier,  in  which  my  field  of  work  largely 

166 


(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

lay.     The  conditions  were  different  there — 
the  people,  too. 

But  to  return  to  Christmas.  One  Christmas  A  safe  bet 
day  I  left  my  family  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Christmas  salutations  were  ex- 
changed at  that  very  sleepy  hour,  and  I  took 
the  fast  express  to  a  certain  station  whence  I 
could  drive  up  country  to  a  little  church  on  a 
farm  in  which  there  had  never  been  a  Christ- 
mas service.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  morning,  deep 
snow  on  the  ground,  and  a  furious  north  wind 
raging.  The  climate  is  variable  indeed  out 
West.  I  have  spent  Christmas  days  on  which 
it  rained  all  day ;  and  of  all  days  in  the  year 
on  which  to  have  it  rain,  Christmas  is  the 
worst.  Still,  the  farmers  would  be  thankful. 
It  was  usually  safe  to  be  thankful  out  there 
whenever  it  rained.  I  knew  a  man  once  who 
said  you  could  make  a  fortune  by  always  bet- 
ting two  to  one  that  it  would  not  rain,  no 
matter  what  the  present  promise  of  the 
weather  was.  You  were  bound  to  win  nine 
times  out  of  ten. 

I  hired  a  good  sleigh  and  two  horses,  and 
167 


Recollections  of  a 

Service  in  furs  drove  to  my  destination.  The  church  was  a 
little  old  brick  building  right  out  on  the 
prairie.  There  was  a  smouldering  fire  in  a 
miserable,  worn-out  stove  which  hardly  raised 
the  temperature  of  the  room  a  degree,  al- 
though it  filled  the  place  with  smoke.  The 
wind  had  free  entrance  through  the  ill-fitting 
window-  and  door-frames,  and  a  little  pile  of 
snow  formed  on  the  altar  during  the  service. 
I  think  there  were  twelve  people  who  had 
braved  the  fury  of  the  storm.  There  was  not 
an  evergreen  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the 
place,  and  the  only  decoration  was  sage-brush. 
To  wear  vestments  was  impossible,  and  I  con- 
ducted the  service  in  a  buffalo  overcoat  and  a 
fur  cap  and  gloves,  as  I  have  often  done.  It 
was  short,  and  the  sermon  was  shorter. 

Aqueer  Christ-  After  service  I  went  to  dinner  at  the  near- 
est farm-house.  Such  a  Christmas  dinner  it 
was  !  There  was  no  turkey,  and  they  did  not 
even  have  a  chicken.  The  menu  was  corn- 
bread,  ham,  and  potatoes,  and  few  potatoes  at 
that.  There  were  two  children  in  the  family, 
a  girl  of  six  and  a  boy  of  five.  They  were 
glad  enough  to  get  the  ham.  Their  usual  bill 

168 


in  tge  Great  West 


of  fare  was  composed  of  potatoes  and  corn- 
bread,  and  sometimes  corn-bread  alone.  My 
wife  had  put  up  a  lunch  for  me,—  fearing  that 
I  might  not  be  able  to  get  anything  to  eat,  — 
in  which  there  was  a  small  mince-pie  turn- 
over; and  the  children  had  slipped  a  small 
box  of  candy  in  my  bag  as  a  Christmas  gift.  I 
produced  the  turnover,  which  by  common 
consent  was  divided  between  the  astonished 
children.  Such  a  glistening  of  eyes  and 
smacking  of  small  lips  you  never  saw  ! 

"This  pie  makes  it  seem  like  Christmas, 
after  all,"  said  the  little  girl,  with  her  mouth 
full. 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy,  ditto,—  "that  and  the 
ham." 

"We  did  n't  have  any  Christmas  this  year,"  Potato  men 
continued  the  small  maiden.  "Last  year 
mother  made  us  some  potato  men"  (i.e., 
little  animal  and  semi-human  figures  made 
out  of  potatoes  and  matches,  with  buttons  for 
eyes  ;  they  go  into  many  stockings  among  the 
very  poor  out  West). 

"But  this  year,"  interrupted  the  boy,  "po- 
tatoes are  so  scarce  that  we  could  n't  have 
169 


RecolLections  of  a 

'em.    Mother  says  that  next  year  perhaps  we 
will  have  some  real  Christmas." 

Robbing'  the  They  were  so  brave  about  it  that  my  heart 
went  out  to  them.  Children  and  no  Christ- 
mas gifts !  Only  the  chill,  bare  room,  the 
wretched,  meagre  meal.  I  ransacked  my 
brain.  Finally  something  occurred  to  me. 
After  dinner  I  excused  myself  and  hurried 
back  to  the  church.  There  were  two  baskets 
there  which  were  used  for  the  collection — 
old,  but  rather  pretty.  I  selected  the  best 
one.  Fortunately  I  had  in  my  grip  a  neat 
little  "housewife  "  which  contained  a  pair  of 
scissors,  a  huge  thimble,  needles,  thread,  a 
tiny  little  pin-cushion,  an  emery  bag,  buttons, 
etc.  I  am,  like  most  ex-sailors,  something  of 
a  needleman  myself.  I  emptied  the  contents 
into  the  collection-basket,  and  garnished  the 
dull  little  affair  with  the  bright  ribbon  ties 
ripped  off  the  housewife,  and  went  back  to 
the  house. 

Christmas  gifts  To  the  boy  I  gave  my  penknife,  which 
happened  to  be  nearly  new,  and  to  the  girl 
the  church  basket  with  the  sewing-things  for 
a  work-basket.  The  j  oy  of  those  children  was 

170 


Missionary  m  tge  Great  West 

one  of  the  finest  things  I  have  ever  witnessed. 
The  face  of  the  little  girl  was  positively  filled 
with  awe  as  she  lifted  from  the  basket,  one  by 
one,  the  pretty  and  useful  articles  the  house- 
wife had  supplied,  and  when  I  added  the 
small  box  of  candy  that  my  children  had  pro- 
vided me,  they  looked  at  me  with  feelings  of 
reverence,  almost  as  a  visible  incarnation  of 
Santa  Claus.  They  were  the  cheapest  and 
most  effective  Christmas  presents  it  was  ever 
my  pleasure  to  bestow.  I  hope  to  be  forgiven 
for  putting  the  church  furniture  to  such  a 
secular  use. 

Another  Christmas  day  I  had  a  funeral.  A  Christmas 
There  was  no  snow,  no  rain.  The  day  was 
warm.  The  woman  who  died  had  been  the 
wife  of  one  of  the  largest  farmers  in  the 
diocese.  He  actually  owned  a  continuous 
body  of  several  thousand  acres  of  fine  land, 
much  of  it  under  cultivation.  She  had  been 
a  fruitful  mother,  and  five  stalwart  sons,  all 
married,  and  several  daughters  likewise,  with 
numerous  grandchildren,  represented  her  con- 
tribution to  the  world's  population.  They 
171 


RecoUections  of  a 

were  the  people  of  the  most  consideration  in 
the  little  community  in  which  they  lived. 
We  had  the  services  in  the  morning  in  the 
Methodist  church,  which  was  big  enough  to 
hold  about  six  hundred  people.  As  it  was  a 
holiday,  it  was  filled  to  the  very  doors.  One 
of  my  farmer  friends  remarked,  as  we  stood 
on  the  front  steps  watching  the  crowd 
assembling : 

"My,  doc !  all  of  them  wagons  gatherin7 
here  makes  it  seem  more  like  circus  day  than 
a  funeral." 

Shouting  con-  I  had  been  asked  to  preach  a  sermon,  which 
I  essayed  to  do.  The  confusion  was  terrific. 
In  order  to  be  present  themselves,  the 
mothers  in  Israel  had  been  obliged  to  bring 
their  children,  and  the  most  domestic  of  at- 
tentions were  being  bestowed  upon  them 
freely.  They  cried  and  wailed  and  expostu- 
lated with  their  parents  in  audible  tones  until 
I  was  nearly  frantic.  I  found  myself  shout- 
ing consoling  platitudes  to  a  sobbing,  grief- 
stricken  band  of  relatives,  and  endeavoring  to 
drown  the  noise  of  the  children  by  roaring— 
the  lion's  part  a  la  Bottom.  It  was  distract- 

172 


in  tge  Great  West 


ing.  I  was  a  very  young  minister  at  the  time, 
and  the  perspiration  fairly  rained  from  me. 
That  7s  what  makes  me  remember  it  was  a 
warm  day. 

When  we  got  through  the  services,  after    A  Methuselah 

„   ,  ,  ,         ,      ,    ,      ,     .       _,         among  horses 

every  one  of  the  six  hundred  had,  in  the 
language  of  the  local  undertaker,  "viewed  the 
remains/7  we  went  to  the  cemetery.  I  rode 
behind  a  horse  which  was  thirty-eight  years 
old.  I  do  not  know  what  his  original  color 
had  been,  but  at  present  he  was  white  and 
hoary  with  age. 

"I  always  use  him  for  funerals,"  said  the 
undertaker,  "because  he  naturally  sets  the 
proper  pace  for  a  funeral  procession." 

"Mercy  !  "  said  I.  "I  hope  he  won't  die  on 
the  road." 

"Well,  if  he  does,"  continued  the  under- 
taker, "your  services  will  come  in  handy. 
We  can  bury  him  proper.  I  am  awful  fond 
of  that  horse.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he 
had  n?t  been  at  as  many  as  a  thousand  funer- 
als in  his  life." 

I  thought  he  had  all  the  gravity  of  his 
grewsome  experiences,  especially  in  his  gait. 
173 


Kecott ections  of  a 

The  Christinas  dinners  were  all  late  on 
account  of  the  funeral,  but  they  were  bountiful 
and  good  nevertheless,  and  I  much  enjoyed 
mine. 

A  snow-bound  Another  Christmas  I  was  snow-bound  on  one 
of  the  obscure  branches  of  a  Western  rail- 
road. If  the  train  had  been  on  time  I  would 
have  made  a  connection  and  have  reached 
home  by  Christmas  eve,  but  it  was  very  evi- 
dent, as  the  day  wore  on,  that  it  was  not  going 
to  be  on  time.  Indeed,  it  was  problematical 
whether  it  would  get  anywhere  at  all.  It 
was  snowing  hard  outside.  Our  progress  had 
become  slower  and  slower.  Finally,  in  a  deep 
cut,  we  stopped.  There  were  three  men,  one 
woman,  and  two  little  children  in  the  car— no 
other  passengers  in  the  train.  The  train  was 
of  that  variety  known  out  West  as  a  "plug," 
consisting  of  a  combination  baggage  and 
smoker  and  one  coach. 

One  of  the  trainmen  started  on  a  lonely 
and  somewhat  dangerous  tramp  of  several 
miles  up  the  road  to  the  next  station  to  call 
for  the  snow-plough,  and  the  rest  of  us  settled 

174 


(Missionary  in  ffie  Great  West 

down  to  spend  the  night.  Certainly  we  could 
not  hope  to  be  extricated  before  the  next 
evening,  especially  as  the  storm  then  gave  no 
signs  of  abating.  We  all  went  up  to  the  front 
of  the  car  and  sat  around  the  stove,  in  which 
we  kept  up  a  bright  fire,— fortunately,  we 
had  plenty  of  fuel,— and  in  such  circumstances 
we  speedily  got  acquainted  with  each  other. 
One  of  the  men  was  a  "drummer,"  a  travel- 
ling man  for  a  notion  house ;  another  was  a 
cow-boy  ;  the  third  was  a  big  cattle-man ;  and 
I  was  the  last.  We  soon  found  that  the 
woman  was  a  widow  who  had  maintained 
herself  and  the  children  precariously,  since  the 
death  of  her  husband,  by  sewing  and  other 
feminine  odd  jobs,  but  had  at  last  given  up 
the  unequal  struggle,  and  was  going  back  to 
live  with  her  mother,  also  a  widow,  who  had 
some  little  property. 

The  poor  little  threadbare  children  had  Disappointment 
cherished  anticipations  of  a  joyous  Christmas 
with  their  grandmother.  From  their  talk  we 
could  hear  that  a  Christmas  tree  had  been 
promised  them,  and  all  sorts  of  things.  They 
were  intensely  disappointed  at  the  blockade. 
175 


Recoltections  of  a 

They  cried  and  sobbed,  and  would  not  be 
comforted.  Fortunately  the  woman  had  a 
great  basket  filled  with  substantial  provisions, 
which,  by  the  way,  she  generously  shared  with 
the  rest  of  us,  so  we  were  none  of  us  hungry. 
As  the  night  fell,  we  tipped  up  two  of  the 
seats,  placed  the  bottoms  sideways,  and  with 
our  overcoats  made  two  good  beds  for  the  lit- 
tle folks.  Just  before  they  went  to  sleep,  the 
drummer  said  to  me  : 

"Say,  parson,  we  ?ve  got  to  give  those  chil- 
dren some  Christmas ! " 

"That  >s  what/'  said  the  cow-boy. 

"I  ?m  agreed,"  added  the  cattle-man. 

"Madam,"  said  the  drummer,  addressing 
the  woman  with  the  easy  assurance  of  his 
class,  after  a  brief  consultation  between  us, 
"we  are  going  to  give  your  kids  some 
Christmas." 

The  woman  beamed  at  him  gratefully. 

"Yes,  children,"  said  the  now  enthused 
drummer,  as  he  turned  to  the  open-mouthed 
children,  "Santa  Claus  is  coming  round  to- 
night, sure.  We  want  you  to  hang  up  your 
stockings." 

176 


in  tge  Great  West 


"We  ain't  got  none/7  quivered  the  little 
girl,  "'ceptin'  those  we  've  got  on,  and  ma 
says  it  's  too  cold  to  take  'em  off." 

"1  've  got  two  new  pair  of  woollen  socks/7 
said  the  cattle-man,  eagerly,  "which  I  ain't 
never  wore,  and  you  are  welcome  to  'em." 

There  was  a  clapping  of  little  hands  in     Anticipation 
childish  glee,  and  then  the  two  faces  fell  as 
the  elder  remarked  : 

"But  Santa  Glaus  will  know  they  are  not 
our  stockings,  and  he  will  fill  them  with 
things  for  you  instead." 

"Lord  love  you,"  said  the  burly  cattle-man, 
roaring  with  infectious  laughter,  "he  won't 
bring  me  nothin'.  One  of  us  will  sit  up,  any- 
way, and  tell  him  it  's  for  you.  You  've  got 
to  hustle  to  bed  right  away,  because  he  may 
be  here  any  time  now." 

Then  came  one  of  those  spectacles  which  "Now  I  lay 
we  sometimes  meet  once  or  twice  in  a  life- 
time. The  children  knelt  down  on  the  rough 
floor  of  the  car  beside  their  improvised  beds. 
Instinctively  the  hands  of  the  men  went  to 
their  heads,  and  at  the  first  words  of  "Now  I 
lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  four  hats  came  off. 
177 


^.ecottectlons  of  a 

The  cow-boy  stood  twirling  his  hat  and  look- 
ing at  the  little  kneeling  figures ;  the  cattle- 
man's vision  seemed  dimmed  ;  while  in  the 
eyes  of  the  travelling  man  there  shone  a  dis- 
tant look— a  look  across  snow-filled  prairies 
to  a  warmly  lighted  home. 

The  children  were  soon  asleep.  Then  the 
rest  of  us  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 
What  should  we  give  them  f  was  the  question. 

"It  don't  seem  to  me  that  I  've  got  any- 
thing to  give  'em,"  said  the  cow-boy,  mourn- 
fully, "unless  the  little  kid  might  like  my 
spurs  j  an'  I  would  give  my  gun  to  the  little 
girl,  though  on  general  principles  I  don't 
like  to  give  up  a  gun.  You  never  know 
when  you  're  goin'  to  need  it,  specially  with 
strangers,"  he  added,  with  a  rather  suspicious 
glance  at  me.  I  would  not  have  harmed  him 
for  the  world. 

"I  'm  in  much  the  same  fix,"  said  the  cattle- 
man. "I  've  got  a  flask  of  prime  old  whiskey 
here,  but  it  don't  seem  like  it 's  very  appro- 
priate for  the  occasion,  though  it  's  at  the 
service  of  any  of  you  gents." 

"Never  seen  no  occasion  in  which  whiskey 

178 


in  tge  Great  West 


Always  in 


was  n't  appropriate/'  said  the  cow-boy,  mel- 
lowing  at  the  sight  of  the  flask. 

"I  mean  't  ain't  fit  for  kids/'  explained  the 
cattle-man,  handing  it  over. 

"I  begun  on  't  rather  early/'  remarked  the 
puncher,  taking  a  long  drink,  "an'  I  always 
use  it  when  my  feelin's  is  onsettled,  like 
now."  He  handed  it  back  with  a  sigh. 

"Never  mind,  boys,"  said  the  drummer. 
"You  all  come  along  with  me  to  the  baggage- 
car." 

So  off  we  trooped.  He  opened  his  trunks, 
and  spread  before  us  such  a  glittering  array 
of  trash  and  trinkets  as  almost  took  away  our 
breath. 

"There,"  he  said,  "look  at  that.     We  '11     Santa  Claus 
just  pick  out  the  best  things  from  the  lot,  and 
I  '11  donate  them  all." 

"No,  you  don't,"  said  the  cow-boy.  "My 
ante  ?s  in  on  this  game,  an'  I  'm  goin'  to  buy 
what  chips  I  want,  an'  pay  fer  'em,  too,  else 
there  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  Christmas  around 
here  !  " 

"That  's  my  judgment,  too,"  said  the  cattle- 
man. 
179 


RecolC ectlons  of  a 

"I  think  that  will  be  fair,"  said  I.  "The 
travelling  man  can  donate  what  he  pleases, 
and  we  can  each  of  us  buy  what  we  please, 
as  well." 

I  think  we  spent  hours  looking  over  the 
stock  which  the  obliging  man  spread  out  all 
over  the  car  for  us.  He  was  going  home,  he 
said,  and  everything  was  at  our  service.  The 
trainmen  caught  the  infection,  too,  and  all 
hands  finally  went  back  to  the  coach  with 
such  a  load  of  stuff  as  you  never  saw  before. 
We  filled  the  socks,  and  two  seats  besides, 
with  it.  The  grateful  mother  was  simply 
dazed. 

As  we  all  stood  about,  gleefully  surveying 
our  handiwork,  including  the  bulging  socks, 
the  engineer  remarked : 

"We  've  got  to  get  some  kind  of  a  Christ- 
mas tree." 

A  fid  a  Christ-  So  two  of  us  ploughed  off  on  the  prairie, 
—it  had  stopped  snowing  and  was  bright 
moonlight,— and  wandered  around  until  we 
found  a  good-sized  piece  of  sage-brush,  which 
we  brought  back  and  solemnly  installed,  and 
the  woman  decorated  it  with  bunches  of  tissue- 
ISO 


in  tge  Great  West 


paper  from  the  notion  stock  and  clean  waste 
from  the  engine.  We  hung  the  train  lanterns 
around  it. 

We  were  so  excited  that  we  actually  could 
not  sleep.  The  contagion  of  the  season  was 
strong  upon  us,  and  I  know  not  which  were 
the  more  delighted  the  next  morning,  the 
children  or  the  amateur  Santa  Clauses,  when 
they  saw  what  the  cow-boy  called  the  "lay- 
out." 

Great  goodness  !  Those  children  never  did 
have,  and  probably  never  will  have,  such  a 
Christmas  again.  And  to  see  the  thin  face  of 
that  mother  flush  with  unusual  color  when  we 
handed  her  one  of  those  monstrous  red  plush 
albums  which  we  had  purchased  jointly,  and 
in  which  we  had  all  written  our  names  in  lieu 
of  our  photographs,  and  between  the  leaves 
of  which  the  cattle-man  had  generously 
slipped  a  hundred-dollar  bill,  was  worth  being 
blockaded  for  a  dozen  Christmases.  Her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and  she  fairly  sobbed  be- 
fore us. 

During  the  morning  we  had  a  little  service    Christmas  ser- 

vice and  dinner, 
in  the  car,  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of          too 

181 


RecoU ections  of  a 

the  Church,  and  I  am  sure  no  more  heartfelt 
body  of  worshippers  ever  poured  forth  their 
thanks  for  the  Incarnation  than  those  men, 
that  woman,  and  the  little  children.  The 
woman  sang  "Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul,"  from 
memory,  in  her  poor  little  voice,  and  that 
small  but  reverent  congregation— cow-boy, 
drummer,  cattle-man,  trainmen,  and  parson— 
solemnly  joined  in. 

"It  feels  just  like  church,"  said  the  cow-boy, 
gravely,  to  the  cattle- man.  "Say,  I  ?m  all 
broke  up ;  let 's  go  in  the  other  car  and  try 
your  flask  ag'in."  It  was  his  unfailing  re- 
source for  "onsettled  feelin's." 

The  train-hand  who  had  gone  on  to  division 
headquarters  returned  with  the  snow-plough 
early  in  the  afternoon,  but,  what  was  more  to 
the  purpose,  he  brought  a  whole  cooked  turkey 
with  him,  so  the  children  had  turkey,  a 
Christmas  tree,  and  Santa  Claus  to  their  heart's 
content.  I  did  not  get  home  until  the  day 
after  Christmas. 

But,  after  all,  what  a  Christmas  I  had 
enjoyed ! 


182 


(Missionary  in  ffie  Great  West 

During  a  season  of  great  privation  we  were  ' 'Real Chris* - 
much  assisted  by  barrels  of  clothing  which 
were  sent  to  us  from  the  East.  One  day,  just 
before  Christmas,  I  was  distributing  the  con- 
tents of  several  barrels  of  wearing  apparel  and 
other  necessities  to  the  women  and  children 
at  a  little  mission.  The  delight  of  the  women, 
as  the  good,  warm  articles  of  clothing  for 
themselves  and  their  children  which  they  so 
sadly  needed  were  handed  out  to  them,  was 
touching  ;  but  the  children  themselves  did  not 
enter  into  the  joy  of  the  occasion  with  the 
same  spontaneity.  Finally,  just  as  I  got  to 
the  bottom  of  one  box,  and  before  I  had 
opened  the  other  one,  a  little  boy,  sniffling  to 
himself  in  the  corner,  remarked,  sotto  voce, 
"Ain't  there  no  real  Chris' mus  gif's  in  there 
for  us  little  fellers,  too?" 

I  could  quite  enter  into  his  feelings,  for  I 
could  remember  in  my  youthful  days,  when 
careful  relatives  had  provided  me  with  a 
"cardigan"  jacket,  three  handkerchiefs,  and 
a  half  dozen  pairs  of  socks  for  Christmas,  that 
the  season  seemed  to  me  like  a  hollow  mock- 
ery, and  the  attempt  to  palm  off  necessities 
183 


^.ecottections  of  a 

as  Christmas  gifts  filled  my  childish,  heart 
with  disapproval.  I  am  older  now,  and  can 
face  a  Christmas  remembrance  of  a  cook-book, 
a  silver  cake-basket,  or  an  ice-cream  freezer 
(some  of  which  I  have  actually  received)  with 
philosophical  equanimity,  if  not  gratitude. 

I  opened  the  second  box,  therefore,  with  a 
great  longing,  though  but  little  hope. 
Heaven  bless  the  women  who  had  packed 
that  box !  for,  in  addition  to  the  usual  neces- 
sary articles,  there  were  dolls,  knives,  books, 
games  galore,  so  the  small  fry  had  some  "real 
Chris'mus  gifs  "  as  well  as  the  others. 

Frozen  to  After  one  of  the  blizzards  a  young  ranchman 
who  had  gone  into  the  nearest  town,  some 
twenty  miles  away,  to  get  some  Christmas 
things  for  his  wife  and  little  ones,  was  found 
frozen  to  death  on  Christmas  morning,  his 
poor  little  packages  of  petty  Christmas  gifts 
tightly  clasped  in  his  cold  hands  lying  by 
his  side.  His  horse  was  frozen,  too,  and  when 
they  found  it,  hanging  to  the  horn  of  the 
saddle  was  a  little  piece  of  an  evergreen-tree 
— you  would  throw  it  away  in  contempt  in 

184 


in  t/je  Great  West 


the  East,  it  was  so  puny.  There  it  meant 
something.  The  love  of  Christmas?  It  was 
there  in  his  dead  hands.  The  spirit  of  Christ- 
mas 1  It  showed  itself  in  that  bit  of  verdant 
pine  over  the  lariat  at  the  saddle-bow  of  the 
poor  bronco. 

Do  they  have  Christmas  out  West  ?  "Well, 
they  have  it  in  their  hearts,  if  no  place  else, 
and,  after  all,  that  is  the  place  above  all  others 
where  it  should  be. 


185 


CHAPTEE  XI 

The  greatest     /^EKTAINLY,  in  every  sense,  the  greatest 

man  I  ever       I     i  T 

knew         Vy   man  with  whom  I  ever  came  in  contact 

was  the  bishop  of  one  of  the  Western  dioceses 
in  which  I  was  archdeacon.  We  used  to  think 
that  his  talents  were  wasted  in  the  West,  and 
that  he  should  have  been  at  the  head  of  some 
important  university  or  the  bishop  of  some 
great  Eastern  diocese ;  but  the  people  among 
whom  he  ministered  were  entirely  assured 
that  he  was  the  right  man  in  the  right  place, 
and  they  loved  him  with  a  devotion  such  as 
few  men  receive.  He  was  a  Yale  man,  a 
Berkeley  man,  a  Heidelberg  man,  a  special 
student  in  some  of  the  best  European  schools, 
a  deep  thinker,  a  clear  expositor,  a  profound 
theologian,  and  a  brilliant  philosopher. 

He  was  able  to  clothe  the  deepest  truth  in 
the  simplest  form,  to  speak  of  the  most  pro- 
found things  in  so  perspicuous  a  way  that  the 
plainest  could  understand.  His  learning  and 

186 


3  ffl/ssionaiy  in  tge  Great  West 

wisdom  were  accompanied  by  more  than  ordi- 
nary simplicity  of  character  and  sweetness  of 
disposition.  He  was  a  versatile  man  as  well. 
Indeed,  one  of  his  professors  told  him,  when 
he  was  a  young  man,  that  he  did  too  many 
things  well  ever  to  do  anything  very  well. 
In  addition  to  his  other  qualities,  he  was  an 
accomplished  chess-player,  the  champion  of 
his  college  in  his  younger  days. 
One  day  he  visited  a  certain  town  in  which  Gambling  for 

.,  . .,  -,      i  •-.  -,  the  children 

there  was  a  woman  with  several  children 
whom  she  was  anxious  to  have  baptized.  Her 
husband,  who  happened  to  be  a  Yale  man 
also,  had  refused  his  consent.  The  bishop 
was  a  guest  at  her  house,  and  she  had  besought 
him  to  argue  the  point  with  her  husband  and 
get  his  permission  to  baptize  the  children. 
He  was  a  lawyer,  and  pointedly  refused  to 
discuss  theology  with  the  bishop,  adroitly 
evading  the  question  every  time  it  was  raised. 
The  gentleman  was  also  a  chess-player,  and 
an  extraordinarily  good  one.  He  was  not 
only  the  champion  of  the  town,  but  of  a  very 
much  wider  circle,  and  he  had  discovered,  or 
invented,  a  new  opening  not  in  the  books. 
187 


ftecotlections  of  a 

He  found  out  that  the  bishop  played  chess, 
and  he  said  he  would  like  to  try  this  opening 
upon  him.  The  bishop  knew  that  there  were 
various  ways  to  get  at  a  man,  so  he  consented 
to  play  a  game.  The  opening  worked  beauti- 
fully, and  after  a  rather  hard  struggle  the 
bishop  was  defeated.  They  tried  it  again, 
and  this  time,  after  a  longer  and  harder 
struggle,  the  bishop  was  victorious.  A  third 
game  was  decided  more  quickly  in  the  bishop's 
favor,  and  in  the  fourth  game,  having  mas- 
tered the  opening,  he  swept  the  board.  The 
lawyer  was  very  much  chagrined,  and  begged 
for  another  trial. 

"No,"  said  the  bishop,  calmly,  gravely  push- 
ing away  the  board ;  "you  told  me  you  were  a 
player  when  you  began,  but  you  hardly  afford 
me  common  amusement.  You  actually  do 
not  know  the  first  principles  of  the  game" 
(which  was  an  exaggeration),  "and  you  do  not 
know  any  more  about  theology  than  you  know 
about  chess  "  (which  was  quite  true). 

The  lawyer  was  by  this  time  fairly  indig- 
nant, and  quite  willing  to  argue  or  fight  about 
chess,  theology,  or  anything  else. 

188 


'(Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

The  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  the 
bishop  met  his  hostess  coming  down  the  stairs. 

"What  did  you  do  to  my  husband  last 
night  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"I  did  not  do  anything,  madam.  We  had 
a  few  games  of  chess  and  then  a  little  theo- 
logical argument.  Why  do  you  ask  f  " 

"Well,"  she  said,  in  great  glee,  "he  came 
up-stairs  about  two  o'clock  this  morning,  and 
waked  me  up  and  said,  t  Jane,  I  guess  you  >d 
better  have  the  children  baptized  in  the 
morning.' " 

We  used  to  tell  the  bishop  that  he  certainly 
had  gambled  for  those  children. 

One  day  we  were  travelling  across  the  plains  Turning  the 
in  the  caboose  of  a  freight-train.  A  young 
divinity  student  was  with  us.  He  was  one 
of  the  ambitious  kind  of  divinity  students, 
who  wreck  a  parish  or  two  when  they  begin, 
and  finally  drift  upon  the  ecclesiastical  bar- 
gain-counter. He  was  ready  to  argue  about 
anything  with  anybody.  A  greasy,  dilapi- 
dated-looking tramp  came  into  the  caboose  at 
one  of  the  stations  at  the  end  of  a  division, 
189 


Recoltections  of  a 

and  presently  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion 
with  the  young  theologian  on  the  disadvan- 
tages of  education. 

He  maintained  the  affirmative,  that  the  less 
a  man  knew  and  the  less  education  he  had 
the  happier  he  was,  with  so  much  skill  and 
adroitness,  and  showed  such  mastery  of  logic 
and  literature,  that  he  routed  the  poor  boy, 
horse,  foot,  and  dragoons— so  effectively,  in 
fact,  that  the  young  man  rose  and  went  out 
on  the  platform  to  hide  his  chagrin,  leaving 
the  supposed  tramp  chuckling  over  his  pipe 
in  huge  enjoyment  at  his  easy  victory.  The 
bishop  had  listened  without  saying  a  word, 
and  when  the  student  left  he  turned  to  the 
man  and  inquired  sharply  : 

"What  college  are  you  from,  sir?" 

"Yale,"  answered  the  man,  without 
thinking. 

The  unlucky  admission  completely  de- 
stroyed the  man's  argument,  for  he  was  a 
living  example  of  the  fallacy  of  his  own 
proposition.  He  was  one  of  the  engineers  of 
the  road,  and  afterwards  a  great  friend  of  the 
bishop. 

190 


in  tge  Great  West 


One  day  in  a  certain  town  a  certain  church,    Revising  their 

not  of  our  communion,  of  course,  resolved  to 

revise  its  formulas  of  belief  ;  in  other  words,  to 

make  a  new  creed  for  itself  and  its  members. 

In  order  that  there  might  not  be  the  slightest 

suggestion  of  ecclesiastical  domination,  that 

they  might  avoid  the  slightest  appearance 

even   of  sacerdotalism,    the   committee   ap- 

pointed to  draw  up  the  creed  was  composed 

of  a  lawyer,  a  farmer,  and  a  merchant,  all 

practical  men,  with  the  minister  religiously, 

or  irreligiously,  excluded.     The  bishop  was 

passing  along  the  street,  when  the  lawyer 

stepped  out  of  his  office  and  called  him  in. 

Two  perplexed  and  embarrassed  men  sat  at  a 

long  table  on  which  were  placed  Webster's 

Dictionary,  a  Cruden's  Concordance,  a  Bible, 

a  Prayer-book,  and  the   Westminster  Con- 

fession. 

"These,"  said  the  lawyer,  introducing  the 
bishop,  "are  my  colleagues  on  a  committee  to 
draw  up  a  creed  for  our  church.  We  have 
gotten  as  far  as  the  Holy  Ghost,  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  as  we  do  not  any  of  us  know  any- 
thing about  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  thought  you 
191 


RecoCt ections  of  a 

might  give  us  a  little  information  for  our 
Articles  of  Belief." 


A  compromise  This  reminds  me  of  a  certain  other  church 
organization  which  attempted  to  draw  up  a 
creed  in  the  same  way  for  the  government  of 
its  members.  When  the  result  of  the  labors 
of  the  committee  appointed  was  read  there 
was  great  dissatisfaction.  Some  wanted  more, 
some  wanted  less,  and  there  was  imminent 
danger  of  the  complete  disruption  of  the 
organization  until  the  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee arose  with  the  delightful  suggestion 
that  they  compromise.  So  a  compromise 
creed  was  drawn  up  and  that  particular  enter- 
prise saved  from  shipwreck. 

Having  fun  with  The  bishop  had  a  relative  who  was  a  profes- 
sional man  in  an  Eastern  city,  and  a  very  able 
man  indeed,  but  he  had  unfortunately  become 
tinged  with  some  of  the  prevalent  ideas  of  the 
age.  He  belonged  to  a  coterie  of  men  who 
thought  as  he,  and  when  the  bishop  announced 
his  intention  of  visiting  him,  this  little  club 
of  modern  thinkers  determined  to  have  some 

192 


in  tfie  Great  West 


fun  with  the  old  man—  in  a  kindly  polite  way, 
of  course  j  so  they  invited  him  to  dinner, 
which  was  to  cover  a  discussion  in  which  they 
felt  certain  of  coming  out  first  best. 

There  was  fun  enough  at  the  dinner,  but 
the  sport  was  in  the  hands  of  the  bishop.  He 
early  detected  their  plan,  met  their  attack  on 
their  own  grounds,  and  routed  them  com- 
pletely. One  by  one,  they  shamefacedly  stole 
away,  and  the  morning  rose  with  the  little 
bishop  triumphant  and  alone  on  the  field  of 
battle.  One  by  one,  the  young  men  came  to 
see  him  during  the  next  day  and  apologized 
for  the  part  they  had  taken,  even  though  in 
a  spirit  of  harmless  fun,  and  many  of  them 
date  the  change  in  their  opinions  from  that 
hour. 

Bancroft  Library 

Everybody  listened  to  the  man.     I  remember    An  interested 

,   .    .  driver 

once  driving  across  the   country  with  him 

while  discussing  the  nature  of  the  soul.  That 
is,  the  bishop  was  discussing.  I  was  only 
prompting  by  a  question  now  and  then.  We 
were  on  the  rear  seat  of  a  wagon,  with  the 
driver  on  the  front  seat.  It  was  a  very  dark 
193 


llecoUections  of  a 

night.  In  the  middle  of  the  bishop's  exposi- 
tion, the  wagon  took  a  wild  plunge,  there  was 
a  crash,  and  over  we  went  into  the  muddy 
ditch. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  gents,"  said  the  driver, 
who  had  retained  control  of  the  horses,  as  we 
scrambled  to  our  feet.  "I  was  so  interested  in 
hearin?  the  little  man  discussin7  my  immortial 
soul— w'ich  I  hardly  ever  knowed  that  I  had 
one  before— that  I  clean  forgot  where  we  wasr 
an'  drove  you  plump  into  the  ditch  ! n 

EagerKsteners  I  have  engaged  him  in  conversation  in  the 
same  way  on  a  railroad,  and  he  would  con- 
tinue to  talk  on  until  he  would  wake  up  with 
a  start  to  the  fact  that  most  of  the  passengers 
in  the  car  had  crowded  around  his  seat  and 
were  listening. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  a  cow-boy  to  me,  after 
hearing  a  discussion  on  the  Atonement,  "that 
little  feller  knows  a  heap  about  them  things, 
don't  he?  » 


A  ritualist     One  day  he  held  a  service  in  a  little  town 
where  there  had  never  before  been  a  service 

194 


in  t/>e  Great  West 


of  the  Church.  There  were  only  two  eomnm- 
nicants  in  the  village—  a  man  and  his  wife, 
Services  were  held  in  a  hired  hall,  and  there 
were  about  four  hundred  people  present. 
The  man  assisted  the  bishop  in  rendering  the 
service,  and  the  congregation  sat  in  interested 
silence  through  the  whole  of  it.  The  next 
day,  when  one  of  those  who  had  been  present 
was  asked  her  opinion  of  the  services,  she  re- 
plied with  feminine  exaggeration  : 

"Oh,  they  were  perfectly  grand  ;  and  I  think 
that  duet  between  the  bishop  and  Mr.  S  - 
was  just  lovely  !  " 

We  used  to  say  that  the  bishop  had  turned 
ritualistic,  because  it  was  evident  from  this 
that  he  had  been  intoning  the  service. 

"We  depended  upon  him  for  everything,  and 

everything  — 

we  never  asked  help  of  him  in  vain.     His  own      even  teeth 
salary,  his  private  fortune,  his  personal  credit, 
were  always  at  the  service  of  his  diocese,  his 
clergy,  and  his  people.     He  had  many  strange 
requests  made  of  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this?"  he  said  one 
day,  smiling  and  looking  up  from  a  letter  he 
195 


Keco elections  of  a 

had  been  reading.     "Here  >s   a  missionary 
wants  a  set  of  false  teeth ! " 

He  got  them,  too.  The  bishop  paid  for 
them.  Indeed,  there  was  no  other  way. 
Things  were  so  depressed,  that  year,  that  the 
bishop  not  only  had  to  get  bread  and  butter 
for  his  clergy,  but  he  had  to  provide  some  of 
them  with  teeth  to  enable  them  to  eat  it. 

Broken  down  The  little  giant  is  dead  now— broken  down. 
All  that  I  ever  did  in  the  way  of  work  or 
suffered  in  the  way  of  hardships,  if  they  could 
be  called  so,  he  did  over  and  over  again,  and 
suffered  much  more,  and  he  was  an  old  man 
twice  my  age,  and  not  naturally  physically 
strong  as  I  was.  In  addition  to  the  mere 
physical  labor  which  he  shared  in  common 
with  his  clergy,  he  had  upon  his  shoulders 
things  which  no  one  could  relieve  him  of: 
responsibilities,  anxieties,  financial  demands, 
the  care  of  all  the  churches— appalling  bur- 
dens !  Full  of  years,  developing  in  power, 
ability,  and  experience  in  the  most  extraordi- 
nary progression  with  every  added  hour  of  his 
life,  with  infinite  possibilities  of  future  useful  - 

196 


in  tge  Great  West 


ness  before  him,  he  had  to  break  down  under 
the  pressure. 

Western  dioceses  are  bishop-killers  at  best.  Bishop-killers 
No,  that  is  unjust.  It  is  the  Church  herself 
which  kills  her  bishops.  She  puts  them  in 
positions  where  their  faculties  are  taxed  to 
the  utmost  naturally  ;  she  gives  them  rank, 
position,  a  bare  living  ;  and  then  she  loads 
upon  their  shoulders,  if  they  be  men,  as  they 
always  are,  who  see  the  opportunities,  accept 
the  responsibilities,  and  endeavor  to  fulfil  the 
obligations  of  their  position,  burdens  too 
heavy  for  any  mortal  man  to  bear.  She  pro 
vides  them  with  little  money,  a  mere  pittance 
in  comparison  with  their  needs,  gives  them  a 
few  men,  not  always  those  best  suited  to  ef- 
fectually advance  the  work,  and  expects  them 
to  go  forward. 

There  was  a  certain  missionary  jurisdiction 
vacant,  not  long  since.  The  former  bishop 
had  raised  from  ten  to  thirty  thousand  dollars 
every  year  among  his  Eastern  friends  to  carry 
on  that  work.  He  could  do  this  because  he 
made  friends  by  his  winning,  charming  per- 
sonality, his  eloquence,  his  ready  wit,  the 
197 


Recollections  of  a 

stories  he  had  to  tell,  the  experiences  he  had 
undergone.  The  money  was  well  spent.  It 
sustained  hundreds  of  Church  works  of  dif- 
ferent sorts,  many  of  them  just  beginning. 
The  man  who  was  selected  to  take  up  that 
work  would  have  to  face  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  continuing  to  get  approximately  that 
amount,  or  allowing  the  work  already  begun 
to  stop.  That  is  a  fearful  obligation  to  set 
before  a  new  and  untried  man,  and  the  alter- 
native is  crushing. 

In  apostolic  If  those  Western  bishops  are  not  walking  in 
apostolic  footsteps,  I  know  of  no  men  who  do 
so  walk.  It  is  the  most  exhausting,  wearying, 
heartbreaking  lot  that  can  fall  to  any  mortal 
man,  to  be  a  Western  missionary  bishop,  and 
most  of  them  fight  it  out  until  they  die.  The 
people  are  helpful,  grateful,  and  appreciative. 
They  do  what  they  can.  Let  none  blame 
them.  The  story  of  the  struggle  of  the 
Church  in  the  West  is  the  story  of  a  great 
tragedy  on  the  part  of  clergy  and  people ;  but 
it  is  through  successive  tragedies  that  men  do 
arrive  and  attain,  after  alL 

198 


{Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

The  hem  of  the  garment  of  Progress  is 
dabbled  with  the  blood  of  men  who  have 
made  way  for  her  by  the  giving  up  of  the 
treasure  of  their  hearts  to  facilitate  her  ad- 
vance. In  that  deluge  of  men  which  has 
rolled  ever  westward  over  the  prairies,  crept 
up  the  long  slopes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
finally  beating  over  them  in  mighty  waves,  to 
fall  in  thunderous  surges  of  inundation  on  the 
other  side,  those  who  have  led  the  way  on  the 
crest  of  the  waves  have  been  beaten  into 
human  spray,  and  having  so  smoothed  the 
path,  are  cast  aside. 

The  footprints  of  civilization  are  those 
made  by  the  feet  of  the  men  who  stand 
beautiful  upon  the  wild  prairies  and  high 
mountain-tops  of  the  West,  and  bring  good 
tidings,  that  publish  peace,  that  cry  unto 
Zion,  "Thy  God  reigneth."  It  is  happiness  to 
me  that  during  the  youngest,  freshest,  strong- 
est, and  most  enthusiastic  portion  of  my  life  I 
was  associated  with  them— bishops,  priests, 
and  people. 

There  are  men  like  Howe  of  Alaska,  Ken-    A  roll  of  men 
drick  of  Arizona,  Whitaker  of  Nevada,  Leon- 
199 


g  (Missionary  in  tge  Great  West 

ard  of  Western  Colorado,  Tuttle  of  Salt  Lake, 
Hare  of  Dakota,  Brewer  of  Montana,  Graves 
of  the  Platte,  Talbot  of  Wyoming,  Spaulding 
of  Colorado,  Worthington  of  Nebraska,  Brooke 
of  the  Indian  Territory,  Whipple,  Gilbert, 
Gilfillan,  of  Minnesota,  and  Millspaugh  and 
the  noble  Thomas  of  Kansas,  who  have  fought 
and  struggled  and  passed  through  as  great 
adventures  as  the  paladins  of  old. 

I  do  not  presume  for  a  moment  to  place 
myself  even  in  juxtaposition  with  such  as 
they.  They  had,  or  have,  stories  to  tell 
which  would  stir  the  blood,  if  they  could  only 
be  induced  to  proclaim  them. 

Just  the  These  little  sketches  have  only  this  value : 
they  may  perhaps  fairly  represent  what  the 
average  missionary  undergoes  and  must  expect 
in  that  great  empire  of  the  West  in  which 
some  day  will  lie  the  balance  of  power  of  the 
great  Republic.  I,  though  born  in  the  East 
and  living  there  now,  say,  God  speed  the  day  1 


200 


